With every waking day you move.

A parched mouth salivated, once risen.

For a black and white world does one even care?

To eat.

To work.

To sleep.

A routinely adventure embraced with fallacy.

As one would embrace a world full of colours than adhere to peace bathed within glass.

To remain a puppet, can you be satisfied?

To remain free, can you achieve stability?

It's difficult to be perfect.

With excessive need to be ideal.

Who tells oneself to be motivated and drive on?

For such empty words speak aloud in a vast world.

As we go along our lives not scripted but improvised.

Day by day.

As life goes on, each day we waste.

One day I will be satisfied and glad for the history I produced.

Or one day I will embrace in stillness and carry on as I walk within a monotone world.