It's an eerie feeling,
When it’s almost on you.
Seen it coming, days,
Maybe weeks, months,
Slowly but surely things deteriorate.

Moments of the days, spent
Hoping to remain calm,
Won’t happen today,
Things will settle.

But you want to snap,
Most days it's the stress.

But things get better,
As they always do.
All works out on its own,
And you figure,

'I should have taken a vacation
Long ago. Why kill the boss?'