Some days
are worse than others.
Some days you can sense all of the crap
rising around you
that you have to cut through
just to survive the hours.

Some days
you can feel the palpable pain
and misery
coalescence around you
and swirl into a maelstrom of chaos and shit
and surviving the hours
is no longer worth considering.

Some lousy days
may make you wish
there were no more.
But bad as these days may be
it could be worse.

You could be dead.
You could be one those dead children
from one of those freakface songs
simply singing
about your prematurely truncated lifespan
verse after verse
after endlessly atrocious verse.

You could have been the child
of a loving couple
that never met
on our plane of existence
an aborted ghost
of an alternate fate
who ethereally wanders
wondering why
she isn’t here.

You could’ve been a zombie
or a vampire
or a were-cat or were-wombat
or were-washerwoman!