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.