LVIII

It's been a long long day all filled with stress,
And petty grim annoyances that build,
Till everything feels done under duress,
And all desires just feel unfulfilled.
With toppling printers and some falling shelves,
And computers that shut down on their own,
A section rearranged by evil elves,
Who have un-alphabetized all my tomes.
These all burn in the wreckage of this day,
Along with customers that have a snit,
And want to correct all the grammar used,
In half the books that live in modern lit.
    The buzz of door alarms fuzzes my head,
     I've never been so turned on by my bed.