boredom is an assassin. 

Lingering in the darkness 

Shadows move from corner to corner 

As the melancholy hum coming from 

The familiar kitchen 

Gets to be too much to hear. 

What would it take 

To break apart the usual routine 

Into millions of pieces 

Caring so little if they ever fit back 

together nicely. 

The silent killer that is boredom 

Makes my skin crawl 

Thinking about being in one place 


I am not made of heavy material. 

I was not made to be sit among

The common 

The mundane 

The dull. 

I would rather live a short but adventurous life 

Than a prolonged one 

filled with already knowing 

What’s coming next. 


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