A work-related rant in the guise of a poem (or the other way around). Because here anonymity suffers and paranoia surfaces...
What a beautiful dream it was.
But no one can recall.
No one looked into the high skies,
for fear that nightmares fall.
And the air knew not what it was doing,
the raindrops held their breaths-
they didn't want to ruin the dream,
but the dream no one dreamt.
The past just hurried on,
because the future was about to wake.
The clouds were moving to the other side,
leaving everything at stake.
And the day would not remember
what the night had in store.
The slate was clean, there was no dream
and the sky just marches on.
9:42 PM
The hardest part about leaving is the uncertainty that you're missed.
strapped in @ 
