Each day is masked in deja vu,
the songs repeat their plays again,
an end that still seems far from view,
so much now lost for other's gain.

Each day a mirror of the last,
reflecting all she'll never find,
an endless fog just drifting past,
absorbing all she's left behind.

Each day rolls by from dawn to dusk,
consuming all she has to give,
a hollow and dejected husk,
without the time for her to live.