Such a wretched existence,
Same dull every good, to how are you,
Same scrolling down to pass the in between moments.
Numbing all the idiosyncrasy of our being.
So horrifyingly melancholic,
To be reminded for a fraction of second,
That the trees, the rain, the ocean exist,
And how we are conditioned to look but just for a minute.
How painfully wasteful,
To live our ‘young years’ by working ourselves out of health,
And live the majority of our actual life with bitterness and regret.
Can’t take even a moment of this old ways,
Better no existence than such dreadful remainder of days.
Monday and the blues,
Friday and finally out of the woods;
Nerves that fire together,
Wire together, it’s true.
All the possibilities we can create, with our brilliant mind, body and spirit,
And this is what we settled for, an inadequate way of living!?
Breaking free of the shackles of our own making,
Taking the freedom to live, hence taking the responsibility,
Courage to face our own potential,
Bravery to put in the work to reach those potentials.
It’s all going to end after all,
But to be human is to not go gentle before the curtain falls.