He awoke to others returning from work.
Lying there, in life’s clever time-killer.
All swaddled in moldy blankets -
The easy means to snuff out each day.
The curtains blocked out the light.
The blankets... the rest.
Another day to line up against the rest.
Lined up since his loss.
Now forward into old age.
Day after insipid day
Merge like feeble waves.
No vision.
No hope.
No new day for him.
Is it today again?
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