The countdown of the calendar

Tick.
Each hour passing by,
My drooping eyes blurring
As I rub my strained thighs.
Tock.
My fingers twitch with each tap,
As I hit the enter key
I am rewarded with the keyboards clap.
Tick.
Words dancing on the screen,
Concentration slips
Sweat becoming a new sheen.
Tock.
I cross off another deadline,
The purple ink smudging
As if to scold my whine.

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One Comment Add yours

  1. ….and the daily prompt gets its product….

    Liked by 1 person

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