January Blues

The clock ticks past seven thirty, alarm rings eight

But clouds blanket the sky

Everything a thick heavy grey

And you say to yourself, just ten more minutes.

Pretty soon you've snoozed your way to eleven

What a waste the morning is

You walk to the kitchen, open the fridge,

Sit on the couch, binge stories infinitely more exciting than yours

Scroll through images of people living their lives, having adventures

From underneath a blanket

You realize it's two o'clock, three now

You want to put on clothes and live your life and look in the mirror and like what you see and go on your own adventures and exercise and drink eight glasses of water a day

But you can't get past that grey blanket in the sky.

If your life was set to music, today would be sad sad cello. Say hello to the January Blues.