6/30 Playing with old poems that belong to other people

*It's official I'm depressed. Depression and insomnia. Not a great combo. Fuck!*


Monday’s child is full of face
and works double hard to keep the pace
to stay ahead remain on top
she runs her mouth it never stops
she forgets to eat and rarely sleeps
some stages will never feel her feet
she's working hard and wiping tears
remembers she's human faces her fears
and when the day is done she writes a poem
the only way to soothe her soul

Tuesday’s child is full of grace
she's tall, head high, a swagger in her gate
her progeny makes her full lips peel
a grin to show a pride so strong
her legacy, it will live on and on
family is priority for this girl with teeth
she brings home the bacon that she will also eat
the week is just starting so far so good
and when the day is done she writes a poem
the only way to soothe her soul

Wednesday’s child is full of woe
She works real hard not to let it show
But it’s on her face and it’s on her skin
She wonders if she’ll ever love again
It it’s worth taking down the walls she’s worked hard to erect
So her name once again sounds the same as reject
She forces a smile and hopes no one can see
and when the day is done she writes a poem
the only way to soothe her soul

Wednesday’s child has far to go
in which direction I doubt she knows
but she keeps moving despite the tears,
despite the lonely and the fears
she know if she stops she will cease to be
and believes no one will notice she’s taken her leave
so she jumps in the car and take long rides
and when the day is done she writes a poem
the only way to soothe her soul

Friday’s child is loving and giving
and angry and hurt and placidly forgiving
the week has turned long and her faith has gotten low
she has no one to talk to so nobody knows
she runs errands buys groceries and plans a great meal
today she has her son he makes her laugh and feel healed
his love has no sanctions, no conditions or trapdoors
and she knows in her heart this boy’s mom he adores
the only way to soothe her soul

Saturday’s child works hard for a living
She drives, she performs when venues are willing
this work that she does will put food on her table
she gives it her all and opens her heart
then at home she stares at the ceiling or cries in the dark
she is extremely happy and times ridiculously sad
she hope real soon that this shyt will pass (or at least even out)
and when the day is done she writes a poem
the only way to soothe her soul

Sunday’s child is fair and wise and good and gay
that pretty much sums it up and describes her to a “T”
though her fair may look different
her wisdom she doubts
she’s as good as she can be except that pirate part
and gay ????? she is very much that
and when the day is done she writes a poem
the only way to soothe her soul