What good is a day...

What good is a day
In which you are the same
At the end
As you were when the day began?

That is called wasted time
Where you pass through without reason or rhyme
No anger, or sadness
But also lacking happiness

And when the night draws close
You pull up the covers to the tip of your nose
You’re too tired to think about the day
Nothing memorable happened anyway

Every second is a gift
Yet still we waste them as though they’re guaranteed
And look to tomorrow as a definite
Instead of only a possibility

So I shall reiterate
What good is a day
In which nothing changes
And you stay exactly the same?