From Day to Day

This is a poem I have written, it was given to me as a task, but, I love writing so it wasn't a problem. See if you can guess what it is! It's really obvious but I guess the poem just tests you anyways.


1. From Day to Day

From day to day,

We walk,

Two, maybe even three,

Small, effortless,


Towards an endless supply,

Of It,


From day to day,

We talk,

Speaking words that they may never speak,

As time is their enemy,

A separation between surviving,


Thinking is an impossible option,

An unthinkable one,

To be humorous, if humour even is known throughout the barren land,

And still,

You sit,

A supply innocently waiting to fulfil your needs,

And then,

Without such a thought,

You take a sip of,



From day to day,

We complain,

The drops of it,

Falling from high undiscovered places,

Where one cannot walk,


As we ring out our expensive clothes that they may never acquire,

We moan,

Considering nothing of those,


Would give anything,

Each possession,

If they have any,

To take the drops,

From misery’s hands,


From day to day,

We play,




And diving,

Not a single thought,

Entering our selfish brains,

Of what better use it could go to,

How many lives it could brighten,

What purpose it could serve,

And still we carry on,

As the careless, mindless people we are,  


It’s clean, like a polished palace with no faults or misplacements,

It’s clear, like the fragile pieces sitting without unsettlement that are unnoticed by the fortunate ones,

And, of course, it’s real, like the people they are and not the identity you steal to live in true harmony,


What is it?




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