Mar Met

Night Shift - Poem by Mar Met

What a night, what a night, I'm whacked, I'm drained I need my bed;
Another shift, another night, another drunk who wants a fight;
Those smells, that noise, the pain I saw is in my head;
One more job, just one more job, I can see the sun, the morning light;

Another dead baby lying still in its cot;
Blue lights and strobes and sirens and horns;
Look after yourself or you'll lose the plot;
I'm like I'm crucified with a head of thorns.

They all look the same; dead people, it's insane;
Where's Tom tonight, did he not turn up;
The crew room buzz says 'Oh, that's a shame';
He was drinking down town pouring brandy into his cup.

Tom's late again, that just won't do;
No one spoke to him so who's to blame;
Joe says 'I'll get him and make him a brew';
Tom's hanging, he's swinging it was his endgame.

Topic(s) of this poem: stress, work

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, January 17, 2016

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