Sunday Funday

Is no fun day
Because the next
Is miserable Monday.

And gloom
Feeling blue
Moping in your room.

You un-disarm
Early mornings
Really aren’t a charm.

We feign
Another week
Oh, such pain.


Chosen Ones

You and I,
We aren’t the chosen ones.
Chained to a routine
Only two days to have fun.

We can’t vacation
At the drop of a hat
We can’t just up and leave
Oh no, we certainly can’t do that.

We’re not special
Just tiny cogs in a wheel
We’re just the enablers
For someone else’s million dollar deal.

We can’t lie in daily
Except on a Sunday
At least not ’til we retire
We’ll get there someday.

We aren’t the chosen ones
So for us, we just observe
A hundred years from now
We won’t even exist to this Earth.

Monday 4th January

First Monday back
6AM alarm drives me insane
For the next forty years
I refuse to live this way.

I’ve come back to earth
A few millions won’t find me
I’d much rather earn my buck
Plus there’s more of a guarantee.

I want to be excited
To jump out of bed at six
To feel as if I’m getting up
To go on a luxury trip.

I simply want to love
What I do on a day to day
Whether I’m busy working
Or letting off steam as I play.

I’m certain it can happen
I just need to figure it out
Never give up on it
And never cast any doubt.

Early Weekends

Don’t you hate that feeling
When you’re tired but can’t sleep
You’ve tried everything
From hot drinks to counting sheep.

Your eyelids demand rest
Though your brain is on fire
Do you go with your mind
Or fulfil what your eyes desire?

It’s worse on the weekends
When you awake super early
Your eyes bloodshoot red
Rather than white and pearly.

It’s all due to work
Why I can’t sleep late
My body stuck in the routine
Of getting up early every day.

Is This Really Life?

This surely cannot be life 

The weeks are so repetitive 

Everything is just so mundane 

It’s actually borderline pathetic. 

We lay our heads to rest 

Then rise to go to work 

To pay the bills so we can live 

Then repeat – it’s just berserk!

Occasionally routine is broken

With something out of the norm

But just like the unpredictable weather

You’re still guaranteed a storm. 

I’m positive I’m not alone 

In wanting to break free 

I’m positive I’m not alone 

In thinking this life ain’t for me.