Pure ~ A Collection of Poetry

Monotony

At night,

When the buzz of the

Cicadas echoes in my ears,

I lie awake and try to make

My dreams a reality but mostly

I wind up cursing quietly at my

Empty-full mind,

Which ties my stomach in knots and makes me choke

On what-ifs

In the morning,

When my alarm rings off

I try to imagine a better day but all I see

Is a building like a prison, its walls

Designed to keep us in.

           Men with guns patrol the halls and

           Hypocrites reign with iron fists.

In the afternoon,

I take up a mantra:

                                   Just a little longer

Seconds drag into hours and

Hours morph into years and

By the time the bell rings I am bone-weary;

I think my hair is graying

For every minute in this suffocating air.

In the evening, I wait

For the sense of security which used to embrace me

As I walked through the door.

All I receive is a reminder

Of the workload that awaits.

When it's night again,

I blink and wait for sleep. It has become

My only reprieve.