An empty-calendar day is a day to desire.
It is a gift to which all the weary require.
What may come of said day is endless potential endeavors.
Until that day comes true and you find yourself stuck within it forever.
I don’t recall asking for this calamity.
But on this day, I find myself relieving other’s worry with formalities.
I am doing just fine, please don’t worry about a thing.
Sitting here lying while every syllable spoken starts to sting.
Reminiscing on the past, just a tic before midnight,
In a state of ignorant bliss, until the new day dawned all of its might.
A fragile child with expectations doomed to be thwarted.
This day is destined for you and it cannot- Will not be averted.
A day full of responsibility is a day to get by.
A day full of nothing is a day you will cry, I WANT TO
die.

Don’t relinquish your thoughts to a day designed for melancholy.
On your busiest day full of distracting stress, are you seldom folly.
Recuperate. Recover. Bounce back. Convalesce.
Every ounce you exert toward positivity is step of progress.
This is just a day in which you find yourself subjugated.
Only those who did not try on this day were suffocated.
It’s a painful wretched day you can never undo.
But it’s a memory for you to tell others; it is something to get through.
The sun has risen and fallen and the dark night has returned,
But tomorrow is a full-calendar day, a return to pure pleasure, which you have well earned.