Days where you row your boat silently over the stream.
Days where the trees by the shore stands calmly.
Days where a small breeze fleets through your fingers.
Days where children's laughter sings in the air.
Those days of calmness. Too calm. You stop rowing. Your boat stays.
Too calm.
Same shade of trees,
Same direction of wind.
The laughter fades.
Days filled with nothing but stillness.
Days filled with nothing but forced moves.
Days filled with nothing but an increasing detachment.
Detachment with people,
detachment with society,
detachment with life.
A life that contains no spark. A life filled with a dull type of calm and tranquility.
A life that leaves you staring at the ceiling.
A life like this,
what will you do with a life like this?
A life where no wrecking ball wants to enter.
A life like this,
if it's you, what will you do?
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