Sunday is a terminal diagnosis;
Remorseful of the weekends past,
Fearful of Tomorrow’s barren kiss
How will we last?
Amongst the treachery of automation
Consumed by consumption’s price,
Shoved into the endless maze as mice.
A world of evaporation’s desperation
Recognition of time’s ultimate destination,
Another Sunday and we mourn as a Nation.
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themischiefmemoirs 
Love it
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Squeek on, sister mouse!
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I can’t help but laugh as I read your little musing. So blatantly expressed and true. There is a certain immense beauty that comes from the sour and sweet expressions of a strong and intelligent woman.
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