7:37am
Birds sing sunrise colours
But he drinks black melancholy from his cup
Staining his tongue with the bitter of another day
He takes a drag
He looks at the rope of smoke
He watches the ants with food on their backs
7:46am
The day scratches its head
A ball with no goalpost to aim
He stops looking at the photos
Putting his wife and daughter in the carton of his heart
Rain suddenly falls
Into puddles
Into thousand broken mirrors
Of his past and dreams
8:10am
Today looks the same as yesterday
The same as tomorrow and the morrows
Sliver of his sleeves peeking out from under his coat
One thinks he pines for a second spring
He takes a drag
He looks at the rope of smoke
The rope to hang himself
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