another cross
hastily penned
marks off
another day
the flatness
the boredom
the bottom
the nothing to do
hangs on
clinging
tight and dreary
trite and weary
the eventless moments
all melt into each other
dragging everything down
a measure of nothing
either done
or
to do
a measure of a moment
sitting on the precipice
staring down into
a pile of old
and broken promises
staring down into
another vacant day
staring down into
this relentless forever
another tired play
another test
another best
no respite
no rest
some days would welcome
this embryonic lack
this dull infant moment
this nothing
this void
About the Creator
Bren
“I know what I mean it to be and respect that someone else may read something entirely different.” Me
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