Everything is useless.

At the start of the day

you raise your head and

start a new day, one just the same

as all the ones prior, or the ones to come.

Same walk.

Same talk.

Same colors.

Same sounds.

Same lies.

Lies lies lies lies lies lies lies lies lies.

The promise of uniqueness,

is a tragedy written by a useless poet.

The "fresh start" is just an apple half rotten

where you only ever see the fresh side.

And at the end of the day?

It's inevitably night.