Here I sit holding my head,
lamenting over a thread long dead,
drowsy eyes longing for a cosy bed
so much that a thread once green now appears red.


To sleep or not to sleep that was the question,
in these cubicles - the coder's last bastion.
Debugging the code had taken its toll,
felt like my head had a big hole


Single-stepping thru the mammoth code,
I hardly remember dozing off on the keyboard.
Until I was awakened by that familiar sound
of my manager barking on the phone like a bloodhound


"The code had been delivered , the money already taken
if you don't fix this they will fry me like bacon",
sobbed the manager by now visibly shaken
the lion had just turned into a boneless chicken


So here I am, sitting so very late
contemplating my poor own fate
when tomorrow this code will be in production
and the manager on leave, for a "tooth extraction"