January arrives like, “Be your best,”
While stealing daylight, joy, and zest.
It hands me kale and gym receipts,
Then laughs while freezing off my feet.

The holidays have fled the scene,
My bank account is… emotionally lean.
The scale remembers every cookie,
But my willpower? Playing hooky.

My bed says, “Stay.” My job says, “Move.”
My face says, “I disapprove.”
The sky’s one long, aggressive sigh,
A damp gray blanket in the sky.

Every plan starts next Monday,
This one, that one, some vague someday.
January nods, smug and slow,
Like, “Wow, growth already? No?”

But still, I snack, I nap, I cope,
I cancel plans and call it “hope.”
If this is what fresh starts feel like,
I’ll reboot gently. After a nap.

😴😴😴