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Sep 10
The alarm blares, its seven in the morning exact.

Her mind is bare and her memories can not extract
the happenings of the days that hurriedly passes,
burdens on her back, stranded, sigh; β€œsurely 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
carpediem
Written by
carpediem  20/F/New Zealand.
(20/F/New Zealand.)   
66
 
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