Your mind and body just want to heal,
There's a soul-level tiredness,
That's clearly visible on your face,
And your generally aggressive Gen-Z trainer, finally showers you with some kindness,
There's giggling and smirking, of course,
But she takes pity on you because your voice is hoarse,
"What is hurting, ma'am?" she asks,
"Inside, outside, and every part of me that has a side," I honestly unmask,
Between grunts and semi-sobs,
She semi-successfully completes her job,
To make more chutney of my tired soul,
Into a fine little paste, similar to colourful eye-kohl,
Is her mission for the hour,
By the top of the hour,
I've had enough, and so has she,
I'm ready to collapse on the bed, while she flees.
Kudos to energetic Gen-Z trainers,
Who manage to drive away our work blues and act as unhappiness drainers,
Off to work I go now,
Just 9 hours to go before I bid this week ciao.
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