Good evening. I've decided to start writing poetry now and again, after my old thread died. So, enjoy if you want. First up, total stream-of-conciousness about my job.
Misanthropic Monkey
This place is my second home.
A world of smells and tastes
Both familiar and foreign to all.
To be honest, before I got a job
Ladling their soup
Making their sandwiches
Tossing their salads
I'd never set foot inside.
After I leave
I intend to never return.
It all sickens me by now,
The depressingly long line as lunch draws near.
For three hours, it never abates.
A stream of faceless names in the microphone.
I am just as much a placeholder here.
Half employee, half trained monkey
With a vocabulary limited to apologies,
Polites assent and denial.
I am reviled by food.
I never wish to touch chicken again.
But tomorrow, I will, and smile and nod
Like a trained monkey should.
Eternally devoted and wed to my darling pet, Nagoyaka Aikouka.
"Your Grace, all that you say is true. On the Trident, Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought honorably, Rhaegar fought nobly, and Rhaegar died.