As each passing day goes by
You try to grasp what the day offers you.
You embrace it as hard as you can
But it can never seem to stay.
It’s a cruel joke because it was just in your grasp
A short lifetime ago
And you find yourself half empty
Trying to figure out what to do.
You are meant to be independent.
You tend to figure that out
Sooner or later.
Not everything will come
Not everything will be created
Not everything will be desired
Not everything will be accomplished
But everything will take its first steps
To grow closer
Or grow farther away.
It depends what you came to do on this day.