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​The Good Employees

​Day in. Day out.

I stare at this beat-up monitor on a

coffee-stained desk.

In a chair that creaks,

under a grimy fluorescent bulb.

 

​The carpet smells like detergent.

The coffee's bitter.

why'd I come here?

should have gone to the bar—

beer stains look better.

My keyboard understands.

We both get our buttons pushed.

Its letters are faded.

W's gone.

 

​We should both quit.

— Whiskey and Ink (davidgambro31), Jun 20, 2026

About This Poem

Style/Type: Free verse

Review Request Direction: What did you think of my title?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Not actively editing

Critiques

Geezer

Geezer

1 month 3 weeks ago

I have...

 that feeling sometimes, when I look at my keyboard, 
the E O A G and H are almost gone. I don't have to wonder why I keep coming back each day, to do what I do, but there were times that I did. I know how you feel, really... A simple little poem about how a person wonders why they keep going. Because we are the same; we don't know how to quit, and even if we did, after your money runs out... So, we dream, we hope, we try to modify. We make do, we keep going; you have made me feel all that, with just this little piece.

~ Geezer.
 

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