The Dark

Dark room, lit up only by the street light’s peering through the blinds.
A man, tired but not sleepy enough to give up on the day, laying on his bed.
Nothing to do, yet not willing to stop his mind from racing.
The only things accomplishing anything are the hands on the clock.
Why fall asleep? Only wake to another day of repetitive actions.
Work – never ending – task upon task await.
The dark keeps it away but eventually he succumbs.
Repetitiveness is the only way to survive.

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