Mondays are shite

Actually, so is this poem...

Mondays Are Shite

As I roused blinking bleary
Sleep deprived and oh so weary
My slumber disturbed mid-sonerous snore
I peeled open eyes gritty and sore
Regarded a room still dark and pre-dawn
Stifled an immense face-splitting yawn
I stretch and I sigh and I turn on the light
I know it’s a Monday, and Mondays are shite

Caffeine and nicotine spark the brain
Override the desire to sleep again
Outside the sky grows steadily lighter
And my mood grows cautiously brighter
But the kids are fratching and the bedlam increases
The dog has left me a present of steaming feaces
Time to get going, to fight the good fight
You can tell it’s a Monday, because Mondays are shite.

I turn on the radio for music and conversation
The news is all depressive and no consolation
Austerity and funding cuts, no money in the pot
The gap widening between the haves and have-not
We trudge up to school, rain dampening our feet
Avoiding the mud and the ice on the street
On my return I am chilled and my hair looks a sight
I look like Monday’s child, because Mondays are shite

The day passes slow, in the kitchen I toil
Four loads of washing, medium soil
I search on the web for paid employment
Optimism sours,  turns to disappointment
Back to school, by the wind I am battered
Kids are home and the peace is shattered
Even the sun has fucked off and again it is night
I’m glad Monday is dying, because Mondays are shite

The hour grows late and my bed is calling
But I’m relaxed and peaceful and sleep I’m stalling
The day has been crap but I expected nowt less
I dislike Mondays, they continually fail to impress
Five days until the weekend and a lie-in at least
Until then I must wrestle with the week-day beast
With Monday now over and all sleeping tight
I brace myself for Tuesday, because Tuesdays are shite