Writers 
It feels great to finally have a moment.
Nothing feels same--after the good old days.
Those who chased lizards with us are now chasing the bag.
Many in the process, are bagged. It is such a lone road.
I'm sat. The wind of depression blows me around.
Maybe the past years of childhood mischief still clasps me. Or maybe, it's just delulu.
Craving for the taste of speedy biscuit long gone. Yet, I find myself being drawn to the chaos called adulthood.
Those who walked this passage before me gave warnings. ADULTHOOD NA SCAM--They chant.
Should I have listened or gone on the quit? Indeed a necessary crossroad.
Life comes in stages. The stage I'm in didn't come with disclaimer.
I sit in a roundtable with my shadows. A decision is hung.
My slot in comes out reckless. Of course, they said it's foolhardy.
Even silence seems not to be so blissful again. Nothing feels like yesterday's sky.
For it has beein promised to be more colorful. Why this gray?
Walking along the familiar pathways, It feels foreign.
Nobody charges forward to the arena of life for a speech. All novice for himself.
Still, it gets more darker. The top throws residues to the toppled.
The bench of patience is getting too hot to sit on. Standing is not an option.
Rays from hardship wrinkles the brave. It is not a fate worthy of mention.
Is it not ironical that the days for consolidation is for locking in? Not for bants and snooze.
Nowadays, in a bid to return to the yesterday, adults loosegaurd. Check X, Meta--animals trooping to kirikiri.
The normalised response by onlookers is whether a cake fell from the sky in kirikiri. Messed up.
Coffers are being stripped daily. But the owners of tomorrow die for the fun of it.
My legs push the ground of agony on this swing of destiny. What is really the destination of the common man?
For all I know, the top showing solidarity is a tiger chilling with lambs. Am I tripping for this?
No use trying to fight against established order. It might be fun for others but not me.
