Daybreak

Day breaks open over the halls of men.

The yolk slowly sags its way down,

coating everything the light touches

in a thin sheen of optimism.

Devoid of shadow,

the morning marches merrily on.

Rising with the sun, I reach out for that daybreak smile,

yet my hands return empty.

Instead they are full of

apprehension, apathy, and anhedonia.

Suffice to say,

I do not look forward

to the day.

Disinterest, in a word.

But I drag my leaden feet across the floor,

and out the door,

and down the road,

and into work nonetheless.

They don’t pay me to care.