I wasn’t just having a bad day,
the last snow had melted and the sun
never rose above the horizon. 

I wasn’t just having a bad day,
shades of grey stained the sky
and people faded into ghosts. 

I wasn’t just having a bad day,
echoes of the perished ones
reverberated like gongs at night.

I wasn’t just having a bad day,
the exit of the labyrinth of night
was lined with gleaming knives. 

I wasn’t just having a bad day,
blunt utensils and silverware
mixed with scents of cinnamon. 

I wasn’t just having a bad day,
suppressed-memories jokes
lingered like mist in early morning. 

It wasn’t just a bad day, it was a day
like every other.