Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Sometimes, no meaning

There are days when there is no meaning
to what you do, to the tedious curl out of the bed
rolling the cover from your middle and throwing
it into a repetition of yesterday's crumpled dreams
sometimes there are blanks, in the beginning
the progress and the end of the way the days fold
into your age, a year, another
sometimes, there are days when history repeats
what others informed, left behind
most days mean nothing on their own

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