Scars from a cycle...

Everyday, I get up, I dress in what I consider a uniform, what they call a dress code, and I start my day. Even though another night has gone, a new sun has shown, somewhere a roster crowed, and I arose from lay, my day doesn't officially start until I'm clocked in at "my" desk. Today, I sat and I questioned myself; when do the routines become painful? When did time cut so deep? Every minute I'm closer to clocking out, the closer I am to having to clock right... back... in, again. I use to only see it, but now I can feel it, the time...