The Boss

All humanity suffers from the syndrome called boss; hanging around the neck like an albatross

Brain reels in his forbearing presence; at a total loss

Our ideas he treats like dross; out of the window does toss

 

How to please the nitwit;I calculate net profit, he calls it gross

My life he has made like; pizza without mustard sauce; no windows only DOS

One day’s absence and the eagle swoops for the kill; late sittings, however, gather no moss

Keep the fella at arms length; let your paths never cross

Whenever with boss face to face
He is forever, at everyone's case
Our lapse's he highlights; achievements sink without a trace
Do this do that; is it a 100 m race?
Like an unending high speed car chase
Give us a break; need to tie shoe lace
..... to be continued