September #4

I was going to write this great poem
about how work changed me
and made me better,
this great experience
that rid me of my naivity
and yet fostered
my kindness.
I was going to
but then today
work made me cry,
perhaps with exhaustion,
or with hurt,
or from sheer exhaustion.
I remembered all those times last year
when management or boys or just
the workload
made me want to quit,
to run away,
to walk out tiredly,
unable to move my feet.
So I guess you could say work has taught me something
about perseverance.
But at what cost?