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Routine Days Of Work

by

Matt Dotson

Rain falls like questions on my fingertips
Dark clouds slowly drift into the back of my mind
A simple question falls from my lips
Where is the answer to this emptiness inside?

As fog covers the ground
Shame darkens these once bright eyes
And brings a feeling of resentment
Something today, something new tomorrow
The sky just isnít the right tint of blue

And as I drown in sorrow
My gasps for air are futile
The common burdens of man
Wreak of wasted days

And endless nights spent dreaming of things unseen, untold, unreal
And waking up, the worst part of all, waking up to see that it was all fantasy
Time to face the mirror, the shower, the long drive to work, reality
Routine is all the day knows as I slave away only to earn my keep
When the day is over I return to my bed, and sleep
Only to wake up and start again

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