When Monday sinks its teeth in flesh,
and worries freeze your dreams afresh,
remember Friday’s freedom sings
where icy fears melt into wings.
Her words rasp at his flesh
and tear his manhood;
he picks up the pieces and goes to his
to be passed over for the next promotion,
taunt his mannerisms behind his back,
and chip away at his character
with teeth drilled to
When the financial storm hits,
and his trunk shatters,
who will hear one more tree
falling in the forest?
I see that serrated edge,
and will raise you two fists;
your bite is only slightly less sharp
than your bark.
Being snagged along its teeth
isn’t my favorite morning ritual.
Getting even is in the cards.
But if I don’t swallow
my thirst for revenge,
it may swallow me –
what hollow grasping!
No matter where the chips fall,
I choose to take the high road and fold,
so bark away.
I don’t need to follow suit!
while you win the battle,
I will win the war.