I am standing on the edge of time
One side was the blessed weekend
When the air was pure
Unadulterated happiness
The joy of a night out
Or a party with friends
The golden hours with my family
And the soft cuddling with my beloved
Everything was different
Now I know the other side
Tortuous, demanding and hard
Spiced with stinkers
Smelling foul in the soup of targets
I hate this part of the day
Standing on the edge and anticipating
I hate these sunday nights
With this sense of realization
I can’t sleep though
Because I know now that my past was better than what’s in store
I seek a middle path
Where this edge of time is obliterated
Where my life is not divided into two parts
“Weekdays and Weekends”
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