I've been trying to be good.
Doing what I should.

Assessing the patients,
Listening to the cadence.

Typing up the charts,
Listening to the hearts.

Filing up the papers,
Avoiding potential capers.

Not running my mouth,
Or fleeing to the south.

And yet, here I am again,
Called in, actions to defend.

Don't they know,
It's how I run my show.

Patients always come first,
I'd just as soon the paper be cursed.

But, there's the crux,
Bottomline money always sux.

Now, for daring to care,
My sins I must bare.

Will I be fired, retired,
Or just jaded to the point of uninspired.

** Possible followup, pending results, of meeting with boss.

Sitting quietly in my room,
blankets up to my nose.
I look out the moonlit window
the shadows curling my toes.

Scratching softly against the panes,
a little imp, awaiting his time.
Seizing a moment to call his own.
Causing fright is his fell crime.

Stealing away my peace of mind,
dancing gleefully at my fear.
Chuckling softly, at his impish feats,
Spreading about his dastardly cheer.

All alone huddled in my bed,
clutching my flashlight close to me.
Eyes squinched tight shut
Ears perked listening, legs ready to flee.

Hearing him creeping, slinking,
Lurking, scratching, and giving a chuffle.
Frightened to look and unable to not,
caught by the light, he gives a wicked snuffle.

I give forth a shriek in fright,
and hide beneath my blankets.
Then that wretched imp, grinning with delight,
races onward, escaping, capering, mouth agaping

Lost in its awful glee, looking for more tiny tots.
Hoping to set their screams free.