The Day that Wouldn’t End

I actually wrote this a while ago, but never got the chance to post it, so it’s been sitting on my phone collecting virtual dust. Yesterday, however, was “one of those days”. And since I’m sure you’re as tired of hearing me bitching as I am about having something to bitch about, I decided to post this today. This is my rant in poem form; while it isn’t 100% accurate to yesterday’s circumstances (at least I hope not) there were certainly homicidal thoughts. Here, without further adieu, is the original poem, The Day that Wouldn’t End.

The Day that Wouldn’t End
Saturday was the start of it
And I an unwilling part of it
Though we all did our best
There was not a moment’s rest
There were problems and complaints galore
Until we threw up our hands and said: “No more!”
But it just didn’t stop the whole night through
(I was lucky to leave before two)
Then, just when we thought it was done
We came back and found it was only begun
The world gave the worst it could send
It gave us the day that wouldn’t end

It wasn’t until sometime Sunday,
Or maybe even as long as Monday
That we realized it was the same day
(The changing time caused the delay)
It was the same bitching and griping
The exact same petty sniping
We changed people and rooms
But the new ones were the same goons
They were just going by a new name
Like they were playing some sick game
Trying to make our fragile minds bend
Here on the day that wouldn’t end.

And we were affected, it’s true
Or at least those that weren’t were few
Our tiredness started to show
Though our service didn’t slow
Normal people would be astounded
At the homicidal thoughts that abounded
We’re lucky no one was killed
Or a drop of blood spilled
That we won’t, though, I wouldn’t bet
It just means we haven’t yet
I guess it will all depend
On if this day will ever end.


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