Challenge
Challenge of the Month XXXIX
Write a short poem about your own private Hell. The tortured who reigns gets 100 big ones. Winner will be picked by Prose. Go.
office space;
awash in a world of florescent lights, watching the world tick away in passive aggressive emails and answering meaningless phone calls from a man in an office, sitting bleary eyed in front of a screen until the light drains from the sky and all that's left is to go home only to repeat the same agony the next day. bullshit jobs.
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