Crappy Sunday

Sunlight fills a lonely room, trying to lift the sad sack gloom. 
Rain at the window, each drop seems to say hello Mr Roberts.
BOG OFF RAIN!
Leave me alone, it's Sunday, the crappiest day of the week.
I don't like Sunday's, I like rain...but not today, I'm not in the mood.
I sit on the settee, TV paused, trying to write words.
There not flowing, my mind is not connected to my heart today.
My heart is not in the words, my mind is not moving or motivated.
I'll keep trying cos creation comes from destruction... contentment is the enemy of invention.
So why aren't my words or lines forming.
It's a pretty shitty Sunday, the rain is a dripping, my mind is a flipping, Monday is looming, my mind is glooming, I cannot wax lyrical, these words are nonsensical, It's a craptacular day, full of dismay and I can't even have my say, well hey!
There you go, a crappy poem for a crappy day, the sun just blinked at me...what's that about?