Misery

At the end of the day it’s another day over.

And isn’t it sad to be counting down days?

Waiting for time to pass, letting it be taken by exposure

And once our day comes, our souls shall be ablaze.

But that is opposite of the precedent we set

Never picking a day to seize.

We allow it to come to us as we fret,

And never move forward, as with the breeze.

But how will we know when our day comes if no other day has been ours?

If we let all others pass with indifference?

Is it right to sit and wait for the hours

That pass but are not made ours due to diffidence.

So rather than let everyday be wasted as it is passed

Shouldn’t each one be treated as if it’s the last?

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Misery

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