Days

By Aishwarya Raviganesh

today, it is the lack of productivity.

tomorrow, I don't know what it'll be.

everyday something sets off a slew of panic,

and everyday I have no one to blame but myself.

and that can't be right,

can it?

can it?

I keep counting down the days,

hoping I'll reach a red cross down the line,

something to look forward to,

something to celebrate,

but I can't help but think,

it'll end up being,

just another day.

the promise of tomorrow brings with it,

a constant churning,

looking at checklists,

how many deadlines does tomorrow owe?

will I be okay tomorrow?

how many days do I owe,

to this same promise of tomorrow?

today, it is the lack of productivity.

tomorrow, I don't know what it'll be.

an ever-shifting red cross on an ever-shrinking calendar.

I keep counting down the days,

to just another day.

I keep counting down the days,

to a different slew,

a new brew,

and yet,

a constant, aging panic.