You stain my skin
like the indents on my wrist.
The hair-ties from my weary day,
unused and painful.
Luckily, I employ you.
The indents fade and the angry
red marks vanish,
while my vision clears with it.
The crack of my wrist,
hyperextended like my patience,
I bring back feeling to my fingers.
Time to get to work.
Literally meaningless **** I’m so bored
— The End —