Not demanding enough to be scorned yet too trivial to be a milestone

How dare the weather reflect the rain storms swirling in my head

Desiring so much more than is even remotely close to possible

I wile away the hours damning the seconds out of bed 

I'm petulant, dour and sulky and I cannot be entreated

Why wont my dreams come to be and my reality go away

I tire of my discontent within the numbers of the faces 

I throw my hands up in the air and then loudly declare "F*ck Tuesday"