I’ve worked at a number of temporary jobs, some good, some bad, some I couldn’t run out of quickly enough and others where I’ve made amazing friends. I’ve managed to use many of my experiences in my writing (one character in The Vampire’s Bodyguard’ is a culmination of all the horrid people I’ve worked for, including one who said ‘I’m not going to bother to learn your name as you won’t be here long enough for me to use it!’ I was offered a permanent job and went on to become her manager). During one particularly unpleasant assignment, I wrote this poem.
What Price for My Soul
What price for my soul
Job that takes without giving
People without humour
Mind numbing tedium
No explanation given
In this colourless land
The grim overlord
With whipping glare
I know the price for my time
But no matter what you do
You’ll not have my soul
Because I will escape
Perhaps to new overlord
Or lands unknown
But always to my writing
Where words are my soul