We slave away from nine to five, then crash without a spark,
Trading dreams for deadlines, lost in tasks that leave no mark.
We save and stash for someday grand, afraid to spend too free,
But life can change in just one breath—we're gone so suddenly.

What use is gold we never touch, or plans we never try?
The moments pass, the years slip by, no second chance to buy.
So chase the sunsets, book the flight, dance while you are near—
Because money can’t hold memories when you’re no longer here.

A bare canvas cannot grace the gallery,
and solely a vacant amphitheatre applauds the painters
who refrain from staining their fingers,

the ones who shudder at just the flawed tint,
rage at one stray stroke,
and wince when colours slightly choke.

But when the palette drains the last drop of paint,
a canvas clad in imperfect hues
remains superior to the isolated one drawing in blues.

It’s like that first time you smoke a cigarette with your friends-
a little gross, but you feel so cool.

Or the first time you flash your
I.D. at the bar,
not knowing what to order, but loving the freedom to choose.

When you’re gripping the steering wheel so tight your knuckles turn white,
finally feeling tires touch concrete that isn’t a parking lot.

Decorating that ****** apartment,
paying the first month’s rent-
broke, yet so **** proud.

Holding your diploma in
trembling hands,
a piece of paper most people get,
but this one has your name on it.

That first day everything clicks at work,
a shift so smooth it’s forgotten on the rough days that follow.

That first kiss under the stars,
dopamine shockwaves flooding
every nerve-
you’ll stay up for days on the memory.

Even the devastating realization
that nothing lasts forever,
laying in bed as rain beats
against your window,
music reverberating through a hollow chest.