A plague on your head, oh Tuesday, 

You reek like the sweat on my feet

You suck my soul dry like a desert

And at last, I admit defeat.

I’ve tried to be joyful, and like you,

I’ve tried to count blessings like sheep,

I’ve tried to just buck up and take you,

But every time, I fall in a heap.

You’re worse than the long lines at Goodwill,

You’re worse than a bleeding hangnail,

You’re worse than the hair in my shower,

Each week, you’re an epic fail.

Not Monday, so I don’t expect you,

Not Friday, so I’m not filled with glee,

Just a dumb day that drags on forever,

Until five o’clock sets us free.

A pox on your head, oh Tuesday,

May you step on a lego and die,

Just leave me alone in my misery,

While I sit in a corner and cry.