The School of Redundancy School

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “First Light.”

I wonder what time it is, I do
It feels like almost Four;
I wonder what kind of a day I’ll see
If it will be pleasant or misery
Dialed back or merely more

I guess I can look at the clock, I can
And it’s Three Fifty-three;
But there’s nothing here that can tell me how
The day will go later, or even now
As far as I can see

Awake. So I gather I might as well rise
And work out like I should:
When I was asleep I was full of dreams
And thought maybe all was not quite as it seems
But all that’s gone for good

Every day’s pretty much always the same
My first thought is like my last:
That life’s what it is, what it’s always been
That what is today’s pretty much like back then
The future is just
The past

2 thoughts on “The School of Redundancy School

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