Off Days

By Cheveyo Baker

Saturdays are my days of mourning 

I mourn the loss of a life

I’ve yet to experience

The sadness of the sun’s light

Showering those who laugh and smile

But just missing me by the skin of my teeth

The likeness of yesterday’s tomorrow 

Eats at me rapidly

Mocking me with its faint young whisper

It’s as if I’ve grown up

Getting older by the minute 

The minutes in which I lay 


This is the worst pain

Broken bones and bloodshot eyes

Could never compare to the aching I feel in my veins

What did I do to deserve this

I poured out the kindness of my heart,

But what do I have left now?




I have nothing.