A blank window opens the day,
Shutting the buzz again in dismay.
The cancer stick lightens the heart,
Making me realize moments lost.
The fight for the attire,
With a drive of no desire.
The mailbox of dump,
Tea just to hit another bump.
At the stroke of mid-day,
Perturbs the recollection of another day.
The faces all down retrospecting,
An unfulfilled wish of going.
The meal hurriedly had,
The fag just wrapped.
Trying to read hazily,
In the hope to flourish readily.
It's already four thirty,
Where is my of tea?
Sipping through the gossip,
Realizing siesta slip.
The only charm, the chirpy lilies,
Pack bags having fries.
Damn the work unfinished,
The party yet famished.
Time to pack and roll,
Drag away my tortured soul.
Fly away from the ghoul,
Was this really my goal?
With the tea and the darling,
Surfing till the clock's ring.
Yet another day gone,
And its already dawn. |
Submission Name: The Usual Living, no Thanksgiving 
