Friday, March 14, 2014

Grind, the dreary kind.

A day at work, like any other,
Things continue to smother,
Productivity turns non-existent,
But, tasks growingly persistent.
With my little notebook, I peer,
Hoping to make the day disappear,
Like the sound of the closing bell,
I await for my time of farewell.
Day dawns bright and boring,
With the early alarms blaring,
Rinse and repeat, the day goes on,
While I try and stifle my yawn.
Monotony is the name of the game,
Breaking it, garners you fame,
Until then, bear the daily grind,
And, to this tedium, be consigned.

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