My thoughts are too jumbled

So I try to arrange them at nights

Mondays are for mourning a love

that was never mine

Tuesdays are for the little wrinkles

forming under my mother's eye

Wednesdays are for whining about friends

who take too much and give nothing in return

Thursdays it's a little quiet.

H U S H.

I'm usually tired and running behind the hands of a clock

Every single Friday night,

I think about finances, but not mine own

Those thoughts trouble me far too much

World economies, big numbers that seem too large to be true.

Not my problem, but everyone's problem.

Saturdays I waste my days so I can spend my nights

Surrounded by people who won't miss me when I'm gone

Sunday nights I stare at the moon

Wondering where I went wrong

The cycle moves

The moon doesn't

The moon becomes whole again

But I don't