The Need for Attention.

I ask myself, is this what I was meant to do?

Every Monday is a struggle

Because we resign to our fate by Tuesday

Wednesday is a celebration because we made it to the middle of the week
Thursday is the soothing anticipation for Friday

Friday, it's almost over, the cycle of pain

On Saturday and Sunday, the days that pass by
In a blur

We drink, eat, sleep, just to forget

That there is something like excel sheets

Progress reports,
Meetings that suck the marrow of your soul

And bad coffee

Don't you dare forget the bad coffee

Because the amount of bad coffee I've drank
I could write a book about it

I don't even mind taking this poem off a tangent

To tell you how bad the coffee is

But even then I drink it every day

Because, really, the only other option
is bad tea

And that is even worse, trust me, than the bad coffee

You have to trust me when I tell you

That none of us, even the most strongest, smartest, the fastest, the funniest, the sexiest, the realest, the fakest, the modest,

Would be able to survive,

If left in a jungle island, without Wi-Fi

You can't really tell jokes to trees

If you don't get any feedback

Your crippling need for attention

Will eat you from the inside out