Her mind is bare and her memories can not extract the happenings of the days that hurriedly passes, burdens on her back, stranded, sigh; “surely the grass is greener on the other side... it has to be! As this, is no way to live, seemingly stuck in the abyss.”
Stiffening day to day regularities; mundane.
Everyday the same - soul crushing, she’s turning insane.
No change. Nothing to remember, a routine ingrained, by her brain. Life cycle? The cycle through life remained on the same routes without fail, no twists or turns in sight.
10 pm - night, wishful thinking she holds onto tight, yearning for the twist of fate her days have greatly lacked.
The alarm blares, its seven in the morning exact.
- tried to keep it around thirteen syllables per line