Monday has gloomed our imaginations to mundane
Tuesday is just horrible for Tuesday
Wednesday shows signs of Hope
From causal times of beckoning
For fun, vain and desperation
For the weekend of hope and failure
The fun is not the fun in its purity
It is the patient count of diurnal freezing
In cubes, in boxes, in clockwork jails
Stare at the white doom
Space out in your immovable mind
To mark that waiting game
We join in hands with some shame
Lets get together to celebrate
By preempting the joy
Before the final day of a vacuous week
It is not the hangover Saturday
Or the lonely Sunday
Not even the glorious Friday - hell hole's pardon exercise
It is its elder brother and sweet reminder
Where hopes spring and eagerness soar high
The invisible prisoners
Of corporate chaos
Calls for the revelries
And possible debauchery
And for the heck of it
Come out
For the Paradise of Pre-Friday
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