Bad poetry for bad Mondays.
Cranky dripping Monday, Sitting in the back and wishing I could sleep. Getting in their faces because they can't either. It's too much, all this dripping. Better is a rooftop than a castle with a cranky woman; Better anywhere than a classroom of discontents. Nothing is blessing; it's all pushing. Labor and pain and pushing. The night endures forever and Where the heck is the morning? Attitude. She got an attitude already, Says fifth period. And I smile, To prove them wrong And to warn them with a sassy smirk of attitude. If I can hold out two, even three, hours; This too shall pass. But tomorrow is Tuesday And I hate Tuesdays.