officially the most depressing poem of the year

[desiderata]

They said it on the radio today:
This is officially the most depressing day of the year.
Immediately I began to feel anxious;
I don’t feel particularly depressed today –
I felt worse than this last week
I’ll no doubt feel doubly bad tomorrow;
Saturday’s shaping up to be a real horror
And if I make it through Wednesday without topping myself….well that’s anybody’s guess –
One man’s petticoat is another man’s mausoleum – so they say –
And all that,
Round my way,
But today, - no, I just can’t seem to get there –
QUICK! Get me pills, booze, old men
gibbering to the tune of former friends
Let me look into the face of my dead lover
Let me stare at my rubber bank statement, NO!
This can’t be right, my life is blighted, surely
Something will get me down
When I need it most, I mean
If I can’t even get depressed on a day like this
When it really matters
What hope is there for me any other day? And thinking so
I started to feel at last a little low, a failure even in this
My specialised subject; at which irony a smug satisfaction
Began to grow, and I felt cheered to know
That if upon the darkest day I actually felt ok then maybe this would be
A pretty good year after all