Everyday seems the same,

A monotonous routine, a tiresome game,

The hours tick by, a never-ending frame,

Of work, of sleep, of endless shame.

The sun rises and sets, a daily cycle,

But my life feels stagnant, a constant recycle,

Of the same old tasks, a mundane spectacle,

I long for change, a life less predictable.

I wake up, I eat, I go to work,

I come back, I sleep, I repeat the murk,

The days blur together, a constant quirk,

I yearn for adventure, a life less berserk.

But amidst the chaos and the gloom,

I find solace in the little things, a hidden room,

Of small joys and moments of bloom,

That make everyday seem less of a doom.