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: ??/??/????

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