The Dullness of Days

Mundane Monday. Clock ticks lethargically.

Look outside and see a snapshot of laboring.

Anguished face angled back. Sobbing silently.

A bathroom light illuminates a spirit caged.

Stepping back into the world wholly collected.

Toiling away in a cycle unbeatable, unstoppable.

Wearing self-destruction.

Timer reads: ??/??/????