I complained about my cubicle,
Saying it was too small,
And since it was rectangular
Was not a cube at all.
Now I’m living in a box
In back alley, USA.
I guess complaining didn’t help,
But my box is a cube, so yay?
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Filed under Poems
Tagged as Complain, Cubes, Homeless, Humor, Poetry, Postaday, Work
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