In Which I Am Mugged By An Unpleasant Day

If this day were a person, I would fear
Him like the bullies who betimes would stuff
Me in my locker during freshman year.
He'd have one eye, and, if that weren't enough,
Six fingers on each hand, and fewer teeth
Than he has got tattoos. His reechy breath,
As sharp as that buckknife there in its sheath;
No need to brandish it. I'm scared to death
That he is not done threatening me yet!
I would he went away, left me alone,
Except I don't know just who else would get
A visit in my stead, who might be thrown,
A morsel into his rapacious maw.
But if he looks away I shall withdraw!