poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

One monotonous day is followed
by another monotonous, identical day. The same
things will happen, they will happen again --
the same moments find us and leave us.

A month passes and ushers in another month.
One easily guesses the coming events;
they are the boring ones of yesterday.
And the morrow ends up not resembling a morrow anymore.

Added: 9 Jan 2002 | Last Read: 9 Jan 2009 9:59 PM | Viewed: 1568 times

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