Tyler R. Martin
Thirty seconds down,
It’s not even nine thirty.
My brain it won’t come ’round
From this purgatory.
Now sixty seconds down
Wishing the weekend would come early,
But it never does
Fridays always hurt me.
Three hours till lunch,
Still not near nine thirty.
I just want to explode
And sleep in the infirmary,
Till next Friday comes around
And awake after four thirty
In time to clock out
For the work week shows no
Mercy.