This is a dark poem about a quiet, underappreciated, man who feels incredibly alone.

He left his house in the morning.
He went to work everyday.
He sat in a windowless office.
He worked very hard.
He did as he was told.
He never questioned The Company.
He never showed signs of doubt.
He worked very hard.
He was not noticed.
He was not rewarded for his work.
He was exploited.
He worked very hard.
He was never seen.
He was just like a ghost.
He had no friends.
He thought no one knew his name.
He had no family.
He had no one to love or love him.
He worked very hard.
He got frustrated with work, like so many do.
He got frustrated with life, like so many do.
He bought himself a gun.
He worked very hard.
He went to work.
He placed a bullet between his boss’s eyes.
He heard the screams of co-workers.
He heard them call his name.
He thought it was funny, that they even knew his name.
He put the gun in his mouth.
He had no one to care.
He cocked back on the hammer.
He had no one to love.
He pulled on the trigger.
He worked very hard.