(Limerick-style poem)
Damocles’ stinking sword, fall on me!
Lays in wait, aims at me, I can’t flee. But wait there’s more!
workplace advocate
A tale of the chosen
A pattern of being chosen and falling victim kept repeating on me. This time I turned the tables on fate.
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I was paralysed with fear and sat through the meeting with my lab manager, looking down at the floor, saying nothing, until there was a long silence and we left the room.
I wanted to talk to someone about the stress I was enduring but also was afraid they couldn’t keep it secret, sparking uncontrollable rumours in the office.
I ended up keeping everything to myself. But wait there’s more!
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A tale of the chosen poem
(Vietnamese-luc-bat-style poem)
Comments about this post on ABC Open 500 words – U-turn.
Why had I been chosen?
Why had heartbreak fallen on me? But wait there’s more!
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