You Don't See Me, But I See You

A fresh start, a new smile in an old place.

It’s not my first time here, but first time seeing your face.

Your uniform is new, ill-fitting and unstained.

Rose coloured glasses, you can’t see kindness is feigned.

My face must look blurred, another haze in the crowd.

Failing to focus amongst the grumpy and loud.

I remember standing where you are now.

Possessing relaxed shoulders and unfurrowed brows.

Those first days are lovely, such fun, such bliss.

Before you realise time passes, those first days you’ll miss.

Vibrant with colour and energy, your aura exudes.

I mourn, soon your happy and cheerful manner will elude.

A month goes by, I have returned once more.

My damnation returns me to this rotten store.

Your uniform fading, and your smile is too.

Taking longer than normal for them to break you.

Next time I return, I wonder will you still be here?

Or will you escape, clutching your sanity dear?

I see you, your struggles, your will to carry on.

I only hope you’ll be happy, find somewhere you belong.

Dedicated to the ones in retail jobs I’ve long since left behind, and all those finding themselves ground down by corporate customer service. It can be difficult, but above all else, try to keep the spark that makes you, you alive. No job is worth your soul.

This was originally published by myself on Medium, linked here.