It’s there.
Every.
Single.
Day.
It won’t leave.
Sometimes visible.
Other times a recalled memory.
Other times anticipating the next time.
Content, in its ignorance.
Happy, in its arrogance.
Loving, in its falseness.
Like a brick wall.
It won’t be moved.
Chipping away at it is futile.
A cross to bear.
For the duration.
