What if you were so miserable at a job that you wanted to vomit every morning?

Would you stay? Would you go?  If you needed the money would you bare it all?

Frustration, anxiety and loathing...even your skin breaks out from the mere thought of entering the workplace

Stomach turning like a spin cycle, feeling enclosed...cramped and ready to blow someone's head clean off

Fake smiles and false cheery dispositions make plastic look like the finest leather..Screaming would soothe the psychopathic air but wouldn't make matters any better

Expected to know everything like a sage and only know the knowledge of a fool.  Thrown to the Amazon and expected to swim with piranas like a punt on the Thames

Room spinning and every corner composed of standards not even a Phoenix could reach

As reality returns, the vomiting ensues and you're lying on a pleather couch of all things.....