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?

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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.