The Last Day Of Summer

It's as if the calendar has turned itself upside down, and instead of summer, there is only emptiness, where even the sun seems foreign. Once, everything came easily, effortlessly, almost automatically. But now every thought turns into fragile fatigue, as if everything valuable has slipped through my fingers. The last day of August sounds not like a farewell, but like a reminder of the old age inside - cold, viscous, and all too real.