OH MY GOD, IT'S FRIDAY O M G I F Three sunsets vanished without a sound I mistook the calendar for solid ground Coffee still warm, shoes by the door Phone says missed calls... remember to watch more The room quiet, stomach drops gerglebert clean Every excuse instinct no longer seen No villain here, no grand deceit Just one more human with organic feet O M G I F Not "Thank God It's Friday" this time Oh My God... It's Friday! The clock don't care, it just keeps time Face the music, own the line Truth arrives before the rhyme O M G I F Take the hit and still stand tall Three whole days dissolved happy mist Living completely I forgot to count the list Laughter blooming, creator consonant deep in celebration, obligations fell asleep Well... bummerfest. That promise mattered. That much is true. Someone counted on work I'd do. So I call when I notice, before the stories breed, Because honesty is authentic creed O M G I F Not "Thank God It's Friday" this time Oh My flipping God... It's Friday No disguise, no borrowed alibi Every blossom needs the rain Every root must welcome strain O M G I F Grow through what you cannot hide Who decides the relative role? Perfect cog or restless soul? it's only gears that never bend flow map forests, teaspoon of dirt without end I'm built for spiritual questions more than rails Finding political patterns in the trails of snails Still, even dreamers owe their word Even when the truth feels absurd Everything blossoms... Not because the weather's kind Because the seasons adapt the mind Time reveals what haste conceals Patient hands discover wheels Every system teaches fast and slow More than any one life experience knows Humble enough to shift our view Truth keeps adding dimension new In the maelstrom, just hold your tongue Before declaring lost or hard won Every gain casts hidden shade Every debt is only ever partly paid Good and bad are passing names Given label to unfinished games Plain logic still whispers through the noise: Every answer intrinsically limits choice The heart grows thicker scarred where it tore Tolerance lives beyond the sore Those who've weathered sharper strain Offer gentler hands through pain So if I stumble, let me see Not the end—but who I'll be Less afraid of looking wrong More prepared to carry on O M G I F Not "Thank God It's Friday" anymore Oh My God... It's Friday Funny how a panic opens doors Roots grow deeper after storms Pressure quietly reforms O M G I F Face the truth... and blossom anyway Everything blossoms. Even mistakes. Given enough seasons.
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