You are at the tax department
Waiting impatiently for your turn
Why do the bloody clerks take so long?
Are these overly paid employees taking the piss?
And is that fucking lad watching porn or something?
Good fellow,
Lower your defences
Still your anxious heart
Unclench your fist
Take a deep breath
Follow me
I will show you what you do not see.
That clerk over there
Is awaiting his cancer blood results
To find out how long he has to live
He has been fidgety all day long
Crying in the bathroom
He thinks to himself:
Another hour, another hour,
And the comfort of bed awaits.
That lad in the center
It’s the anniversary of his brother’s suicide
The last text he received was “Pizza’s ready”
And he kills himself everyday
Wondering if things would have been different
If he just bloody came home for the bloody pizza
The slender frame of his deceased sibling
Is the sight he sees every time he closes his eyes.
Good fellow,
Be kind
For the light by which you see
Is spotted by flecks of darkness.
