I punch in.
Shall I play the pawn or jerk?
At home at night
I'm just too tired to eat.
I feel defeated,
trapped,
incomplete.
Some weekends though
I'd rather stay at work.
The law requires
we take our days of rest,
for hobbies,
preparations,
games, salons,
for shopping, clean-up,
travel marathons,
'til having fun
yields more ways to feel stressed.
To day
I'm going to hide,
turn off my phone,
block guilt, nix shame,
and banish all regret,
eat what I want,
enjoy it and not fret,
remain unwashed,
unbrushed,
at peace, alone.
Until next dawn
I'm having my own way.
I'll stay in bed.
Claim my 'Pajama Day.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem