Friday, March 06, 2009

A sad and silly true poem

Belly Up

Come into my office, said the boss man to the guy.
The time has come to send you home. Your work is done. Goodbye.

The company is bankrupt: it's chapter seven time.
The doors are locked, the lights are out, we haven't got a dime.

So sorry that there is no pay, no benefits, not one.
We thank you for your time, and know your time has just begun.

Clean out your desk and take your stuff, but leave your sweat and dreams.
We know its bad, but time will tell it's harder than it seems.

You're middle aged. That's life; it can't be helped. We wish you well
with resumes and dusty suits, employment lines from hell.

Now off you go. Get out of here. Go home and tell your wife.
Good luck with that. Leave the keys, and hey - have a nice life.

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