The rejection from men is nothing

The fifty seventh job rejection is

Overqualified, enthusiastic, three years experience

Still not good enough to get the interview

You crumble and crawl into the salvation of darkness

Sleep makes disappointment hard to feel

You sleep a lot now

Your phone has the loudest ringer

Each unknown number is a beacon of hope

A hundred cover-sheets

All of which grovelling

Nobody wants a good worker when they can have a slave

You’re starting to wonder whether the flaw’s genetic

It’s not

You’re starting to wonder what it would be like to move away

You can’t

You’re starting to wonder whether you wrote down the wrong number

You didn’t

Never did you deal with rejection well

Now it’s a constant shade in your colour scheme

Each day darkened with constant failure

It’s hard to keep moving but harder to stay still

Surely there’s something at the end of the tunnel

Death, perhaps

Hopefully a job with penalty rates.