"workflow" poems - Hello Poetry

A harrowed frenzy Ghosting through halls, Memorizing nonsensical miscellany. Exhaustion reigns supreme.

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Jun 6, 2014

Jun 6, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC

ashley-williams

#Workflow

A harrowed frenzy Ghosting through halls, Memorizing nonsensical miscellany. Exhaustion reigns supreme.

4

I sit exhausted every night Not a single off day in my sights Working as I wake up, and until I dose off So busy, my dehydration is discovered by a dry cough To busy to eat, yet too hungry to carry on Taking even a little break causes progress to be gone Disappeared are the days of weekends being a reprieve As I wipe the tears and carry on by rolling up my sleeves Some call it growing up, others call it existing Here I am throwing up, unware of how exhausting this all truly is The human body was made for pressure, yet I cannot reassure If I am tired out of hard work, or hardly getting things to work The weapons must have succeeded, the attacks seem to have landed Stuck in this workflow I feel stranded, and yet life has still demanded I wake up and smile, and sleep with the same expression Is this depression, a lesson, or a trial for heaven? Sitting down is wasting time, and working with no success is just as worse Is this a challenge set before me, or some invisible curse Time and time again, clocking in and clocking out I sit still, letting it boil, as all I want to do is shout

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Apr 23, 2024

Apr 23, 2024 at 2:25 PM UTC

thyreez

When weapons formed against me prosper

I sit exhausted every night Not a single off day in my sights Working as I wake up, and until I dose off So busy, my dehydration is discovered by a dry cough To busy to eat, yet too hungry to carry on Taking even a little break causes progress to be gone Disappeared are the days of weekends being a reprieve As I wipe the tears and carry on by rolling up my sleeves Some call it growing up, others call it existing Here I am throwing up, unware of how exhausting this all truly is The human body was made for pressure, yet I cannot reassure If I am tired out of hard work, or hardly getting things to work The weapons must have succeeded, the attacks seem to have landed Stuck in this workflow I feel stranded, and yet life has still demanded I wake up and smile, and sleep with the same expression Is this depression, a lesson, or a trial for heaven? Sitting down is wasting time, and working with no success is just as worse Is this a challenge set before me, or some invisible curse Time and time again, clocking in and clocking out I sit still, letting it boil, as all I want to do is shout

21

Lost today between what I want to achieve and how I want to be perceived and work is a never-ending pattern of habits and shortcuts. No more a liar than a way towards success. Swimming in a school of fish in a constant workflow towards uninspiring goals and dreams outside of missed opportunities and hopes. Dashed away with the barely visible snowflakes unable to stick to the ground beneath my boots. Boots that track a familiar path down too long a commute in a city I only meant to pass through. In my bed, I keep thoughts that never make it out of the room on loop, constantly playing it like a well-worn cassette tape. Before drifting off, I think one day, maybe one day.

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Jan 8, 2016

Jan 8, 2016 at 11:43 PM UTC

lila-wolfe

Rinse and repeat

Lost today between what I want to achieve and how I want to be perceived and work is a never-ending pattern of habits and shortcuts. No more a liar than a way towards success. Swimming in a school of fish in a constant workflow towards uninspiring goals and dreams outside of missed opportunities and hopes. Dashed away with the barely visible snowflakes unable to stick to the ground beneath my boots. Boots that track a familiar path down too long a commute in a city I only meant to pass through. In my bed, I keep thoughts that never make it out of the room on loop, constantly playing it like a well-worn cassette tape. Before drifting off, I think one day, maybe one day.

2