Work Place

Funeral parlors are more upbeat,
than the atmosphere where we meet;
wearily our feet drag along,
somewhere our heart has lost its song.

Team spirit folded long ago,
colleagues treat the boss as their foe;
biting comments intend to hurt,
greetings are impolite and curt.

The boss invited all this strife,
fights at work, his tongue like a knife;
known for his partiality,
lacking perceptibility.

Informers mingle amongst us,
deceivers that daily we cuss;
welcomed in the boss’s circle,
glimpsing them turn faces purple.

The undesirables will fall,
but always there will be a wall;
damage done cannot be undone,
the work place will never be fun.