Days

Is it me or days are actually sprinting by

with every shave of my unpopular beard

I am counting two weeks in my fingers

but standing still,with the week ahead in hand

and the same old Cup of TEA,

with every sip, a sunken realization of a sickening rut

Pages of reading and comprehending

with every chapter ending,

leading to the inception of another

and by the time its twilight in the Evening

I realize I've bought more than half of my day

but the drill remains the same

hackneyed by its mandatory communal strength

proven to be efficient that way

no matter how much dehydrating it gets

in the midst of chores and its inane monotony

there goes another day.....