The Beast Of Weekday Legend Poem by Alexander Johnson

There's a beastly beast that lives with me, the beast of weekday blues.
But only I have seen this beast, (well, just me and my cat Moos) .
I tremble with a noddy head, confused and scared to speak,
Why is this beast so mean to me, but only in the week!
Red mist does not quite cover this, of calm there is no sign,
Its 'The hurricane of weekday woe', in my mornings around nine.
With wild golden hair and blurry eyes and a victim in her bed,
The Beast of weekday legend is like a tornado seeing red!
No one believes the beast that lives inside my house is real,
As she disappears without a trace with a slam and tyre squeal.
But I've now been institutionalised and I would miss the morning storm,
I'm trained for fire and brimstone, in the week that's just the norm.
The beastly beast that lives with me, the beast of weekday blues,
She's the only beast that I would want, to attack me while I snooze.