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.


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