Unemployed

I love my job.

I hate my job.

The cool air,

Rushing through my hair.

The warm sun,

Taking all my cares.

The parents complaining

The migraines and screaming.

The constant sunburns,

The benign tumors appearing.

I must go back.

I must hold my tack.

The camp is dying,

I can’t allow that.

50 Hours of my soul a week.

A meager wage of 10 to me.

I know I have a choice,

But can’t bear to leave.

I know I’d be better off.

I know that I’ve had enough.

But there’s no one to replace me.

When I’m gone the camp will stop.

There since only a young lad.

8 years of age I was pretty bad.

I was never the best sailor even as boss,

But everyone left, for the same reasons I had.

But with my childhood, I can’t bear to part.

A little piece will die in my heart.

But I have to grow up, I can’t put off my life.

I’m sorry but my adult life must start.

“Dear boss, I’m resigning.

I have a great internship” (though I’m lying)

“Thank you for all you’ve done.

Good luck with replacement finding.”

Finally I break free.

Finally I can be me.

I can find a job I am qualified for.

I can be who I want to be.

“Dear Matt, your childhood is dead.”

At first I seethe, I can’t get this out of my head.

But then I accept it and move on.

“I can’t work there forever” is what I said.

I love not working there.

I hate that no one will ever work there again.