This poem tells the story
of a school week, not glory
nor hunky dory as one
might think. Truly.
It all starts on Sunday
after lunch, in the afternoon,
the day before Monday
just after high noon.
When you start to sense school
creeping up towards your skull
with the power of leftover homework
left to the final moment. Work
that should have been done
ages ago. This was so dumb.
This always seems to be the case.
Nevermind, homework’s made.
It wasn’t that hard now, was it?
Luckily I didn’t forget it.
Having this roadbump behind my back
I continue my day as planned, just laying back,
relaxing ‘til tomorrow, when it’s time to leave,
enjoying the final moments of this short leave.
Then, after everything, Monday is upon me.
Feels like I’ve hit rock bottom, concrete.
Wander into school, get into the classroom,
Trying to stay awake, thinking this is my doom.
A little time passes, I feel much more alive,
Like something inside me has just switched to overdrive.
I pull through the day somehow, amazed I did,
I get home, prepare for what seems like a repeat.
These weekdays are tough, but you can’t simply give up
if you want a decent, well-paying, comfortable job.
Friday’s over, weekend’s in sight, feels real nice,
like a holy blessing from above - keeping me alive -
comes Saturday, the saviour of my life,
I can go home, hang out, even chill under the sky.
And on the weekend, you should remember
to get over it quick rather than surrender.
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