Each workday I grumble
Battling in the rubble
Of the fragments of instructions
And the glaring misdirections
I silently scream
Trapped in this hellish dream
Of this pit I cannot escape
Dragging my sanity by its nape
So I punch my computer
Since I'm no sharpshooter
My petty revolt
Since I'm but a chained colt
And in my protest
An act of rebellious jest
Instead of work I rhyme
Until it's quitting time