never tell your boss you are a poet

My boss got to know one day
That I am a poet
He asked me to visit his cabin
My joy didn’t know boundry

I walked in with excitement
In my boss’s cabin
He took my poem in front
& oh lord! he started reviewing!

He gave me his ‘inputs’
On my poor & helpless poem
I was disgusted inside
And still praised him for ‘value’ he added

My peril didn’t end there
As he said he writes poems these days
He assured he is a great poet
But doesn’t do it for the lack of time

He gave me his collection
A collection of hundred poems
The supposed great poetry
Looked like words enslaved to work (like employees)

The clear sign of verbal diarrhea
& vocabulary captivated from Oxford
He thinks he is a master
Of words, rhymes and emotions

God save me now
I am going through emotional trauma
Please enlighten this man
That poetry is not his employee

I would urge all of you
Never tell your boss that you are a poet
Or prepare to see your poems being thrashed
Like a butcher hatching your favourite goat