I called in sick today.
I hate having to do it,
but there was no way.
Pharmacy out of stock,
anxiety taking over,
can’t count down that clock.
It’s hard to get out of bed,
when I feel this way,
self loathing in my head.
I do it too much, I know,
but I never feel good.
Today I just couldn’t go.
I hope my boss isn’t mad.
That’s what makes it worse.
That’s why I feel bad.
No wonder I can’t get away,
from this job I’m sick of,
too many days like today.
Anxiety, crippling, I hate it,
but I hate me now too,
and that’s the worst bit.
Poetry
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