System

The system is definitely not broken

It works as well as it should

I can scrub the floor until my knuckles bleed

So you won't kick me as I know that you could.

The glass ceiling needs a good polish

It's stained with the smear of your spit

I can gaze straight through it when it's shiny and clean

It's the price I pay so you don't hit.

My hashtag is always a worry

No matter its title or name

Like a virulent swarm, it draws out the monsters

And bating my life is a game. 

It's the hush in the boardroom meeting

When I speak as an idea flows

The quizzical look that I may have a point

And all my confidence goes.

For the fist is a mighty weapon

It bruises and batters and blurs

But it's basic and brutal and can't hide the shame

Of how the system can grow. 

But I have a secret weapon

Amidst the eye of the storm

A million voices that are just like me

And don't gesture, threaten or perform

So I'll pack away the cleaning materials

Hashtag my life again 

And in the end, you'll see that I do have a point

And the system will be reborn.