the morning begins with the same
coffee in hand the clock ticking
emails stacked like bricks awaiting
answers that feel heavy to write
the phone hums softly in protest
papers shuffle restless on desks
conversations loop the tired thoughts
the day stretches its arms slowly
lunchtime tastes of reheated routines
the view outside remains unchanged
keyboards click in endless harmonies
hourglass sand surrenders to gravity
when evening arrives the soul wonders
was anything built from this effort
or did the day simply consume you
a machine learning to call itself human