Hello PoetryVoting

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

The Inbox

The inbox calls, It never sleeps, It stacks up high, It always keeps; One more reply, One more “urgent”, My calm is gone, My thoughts are burdened; I type “Kind regards”, Like it’s a spell, A polite mask, To hide the hell; I press send, And feel no win, Because the next one, Already walked in.
Request permission to use this poem
Written by
daniel-tabone
Published
Feb 23
Lines·Words
19·56
Tags
#work#emails#stress#busy#modernlife#tired
Permission

Request to use this poem

Tell daniel-tabone how you would like to use it. We review requests before forwarding them.

AboutBlogFAQPrivacyTermsContact
© 2009-2026 Hello Poetry/v27.0 by @eliotyork
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write