Desk

alone and bitter.

your hard personality is textile.

distraction is written clearly on your face.

the papers piled high, urgency overwhelming.

the computer sitting atop you,

her siren song dragging me in.

to spend endless hours pointlessly

leaned against your false wooden top.

your legs buckling under the stress.

yet, you stand straight and alone,

unaware of the life passing around you.

(or maybe just indifferent)

 

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