Is it finally over?
The day.
The tiresome day.
With its noise, and its bustle, and its meaningless chatter.
Is it finally over?
The day.
The weariness of bones, the treacherous tongues, the
monotonous insincere greetings
The obscure intensity of eyes meeting, of eyes hurriedly
looking away.
The mundane work, the laden footsteps, the wretched paths we
tread.
The day is finally over.
The bitter fruit consumed, the oversized core spat.
