Welcome to your
Monday poem.
Something about this poem is different from the rest.
But you just can't lay your finger on it,
Can you?
I think Mondays are okay.
I know most people despise them,
But they're okay.
Mondays are normal, really,
Up until that 2:40 bell rings.
By now I'm probably smiling like crazy.
Every Monday,
When I get home,
I reflect.
He said this,
I said that,
I could've said this...
I looked him in the eye.
Should've I?
Something about this
Isn't right.
But if I let go,
I'll have nothing
To hold on to.
