Hornets in My Hairnet

I wrote this poem inspired by my work in food service. Hairnets are something that becomes quite annoying… I hope you find my poem humorous and maybe you can relate!

Never before was there something I hated

more than I now loathe

this God-forsaken hairnet.

Forged in the fires of Mt. Doom,

this object is able to break

any man’s will

within a simple few minutes.

The constant itch

can drive the perfectly sane

to madness.

It’s like a twisted

schoolyard game.

“Who can last the longest

without itching?”

I always lost those kinds of silly games.

It feels like a hive

of angry hornets

are attacking my head.

Perhaps God will look down

on me and pity.

Perhaps my hair

would Spontaneously

combust

They’d be forced

to send me home.

No.

That would be too easy

wouldn’t it?

I have to endure.

I have to survive.

Like a man lost in the Amazon

I must do what is nessesary to survive.

To live to fight another day.

I must carry on.

I must face this peril

despite its perilousness.

Only

forty-seven more

minutes

until I am released from this torture.

Freedom.

Sweet freedom.

You’re within

my grasp.

And more importantly

this hairnet

is that much closer

to the trash bin.

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