The five days of the working week
stretch ahead in front of me
like twenty-six marathon miles
and my ankle is broken.
I feel your hands around my neck,
Monday, choking and squeezing,
I can\'t breathe and am
losing consciousness.
Our relationship is toxic, Monday.
Your demands are impossible
and you\'re becoming a bore.
Monday, you are a bully.
I\'m done with you, Monday.
I quit, I\'m out, we\'re through.
I\'ve had all I can take from you.
See you next week.