A bad day again.

Going out to do laundry

Feels like the only sane thing

To do.

It’s the sort of day 

In which I wonder

Why,

If I’m making good work,

Nobody is giving me a scholarship.

And if I’m not

What am I spending all this money for anyway?

I should be a farmer instead.

Also,

If I am a worthy woman

Where are the worthy men?

And if I’m not,

I’ve been failing at life

For thirty-two years.

Why wash all these sheets

And underwear,

Tidy up my room,

Write poems

Nobody will read

But you.