4:05 in the morning,
The new day is practically dawning.
Waiting for the washing,
I’d quite like to be rushing
Upstairs to bed,
But at uni, you play silly games instead.

No one spares a thought
For others in their dorms.
They’ll do their washing at their own leisure,
No worries about causing others displeasure.

Displeased I am,
But also quite alone,
So you understand why I write creatively to moan.

This is not where I’d thought I might be,
At the ripe old age of 33,
Held hostage to others’ pants,
Though never any hope of getting in them, not a chance.

That last rhyme was lazy,
But it’s 4:09 now, I’m feeling a bit crazy.

I’ve also decided
That I might catch up with coursework,
Just in case
My lopsided life sorts itself out,
And in some janky jerk,
I discover I’m in the right place,
And there was never any real reason to pout.

I don’t live in hope,
Quite frankly, I enjoy a good mope,
Which is a fine thing,
Sat here waiting.

God knows what the new day will bring,
But I’m anticipating
That it might just deliver some other quite shit thing.