A nasty mood poem.

Blah blah, snore.
Blah blah, snore snore.
Life, oh life, it is such a bore.

I hate my job.
My name is not Bob
and I think everyone is a slob.

Excepting a few people that I love and adore. Wow, I made that rhyme too.

I'm in a mood that's crap.
For that, you get a bad rap;
You've probably got the clap.

Don't give it me,
Please let me be.
Go and give it to Lee.

I don't know anyone named Lee, but if I did, I'm sure that they would deserve to get the clap.

For lunch, I'll have something unhealthy.
For that my friends is where lies my fealty.
Truly it does, in that I am wealthy.

I should just go back home,
and quit the everlasting emotional roam,
of up and down and up and down amongst the loam.

What? I needed a word to rhyme with home and roam. Look it up.

In my bed I will crawl,
cover up with my favoritest shawl
and begin my weekly "oh woe is me" bawl.

At least tomorrow is Friday,
and the weekend, it will be here to stay.
For a couple of days,
a few fleeting moments,
I won't be stuck wailing in the fray.