Classic Poem

Where do I start ?
At the beginning of course,
but where is that exactly ?
I am
(to state it in
politically incorrectly language)
a schizophrenic.

And I have been living
with that label
for the past 15-odd years now.

I live by myself,
have a few close friends...

But I count myself as
one of the lucky ones
because throughout all of times
in and out of
psych. wards of hospitals,

I kept the same job,
with a large
government organization,

and they've been very
supportive towards me.

Today, at work,
in my lucky full time job
as a government nobody,
I get largely left alone and
to my own devices.

For better or for worse,
but always with an occasional
supervisory peer
over my shoulder
to keep me in line.

"Oh yes, ,
your job is safe,
we do value your work,
just keep going
at your own pace.

We're not too sure
where or
how exactly you fit in,

but we like
having you around,
and, hey,
somebody has to
do the odd jobs,
and we think you're
just the man."

***

Alas,
I am not lucky enough
to have a job that I'm in love with.

My career is not my life.

Sometimes I think that
I'm just a tiny cog
in a ridiculously enormous machine -
but there are also moments
when keeping that cog turning
seems to make a (slight) difference.

I have good days
and other days.

Sometimes the other days get ugly.

But, I always try to do
the right things at work,
for recognition perhaps,
or perhaps simply
to prove that I am really
not incompetent at my job.

I can do it well,
and I do it the best
of my capabilities.

And if that means that
I hit brick walls then
so be it -

I just have to get help
when I hit one.
I have learnt
through bitter experience,
that when I hit a wall,
they will almost always out-stare me.

So that's when I get a ladder,
or maybe a sledge hammer.