The moon it rises, dimly lighting the landscape before me,
Although my eyes have been graced with this view, hundreds of times before,
A realisation of lapsing time, makes it feel brand new. But puts a blemish on my thoughts pertaining to the rest of my life.

Sleep.
Like money.
Without it your dreams don’t get realised.
Time.
An enemy.
Depleting my body and mind as seconds, hours, days, weeks, are archived with nothing to remember, but a desk a computer, and regret.

Conflicting existence monopoly.
What do I truly own?
This body? This mind? Yes.
Control? The path and the map? No.
The right of living a life free from the imperfections that exist in a systematic world, that scars, its children and sets its rules based on the common lives? Most definitely not.

The little people,
Shoved in the corner, where everybody likes to make it look like they help, so they can sleep in a comfortable bed, with enough pillows to keep their heads held high.

Indeed,
Fuck the system.
For leaving us in the cold.
Fuck the cold,
For making us feel like were nothing.
And Fuck the nothing,
Because it made us this way.