Sonnet CXIX

My life is just a bunch of cereal;
each day a box of wheat and multi-grain;
each week has seven boxes, packaged up;
Then all the boxes cycle once again.

Each day within the box identical,
the difference only shows from day to day,
But every week becomes so blandly dull
and then the months are structured all the same.

With life so organized I’m always free,
from worry, stress, and abnormality.
It’s calming, knowing all is orderly.
But is there any change of scenery?
Of course not. Everything is orderly.
Unchanging, hapless, joyous orderly.