Wood rots
Tires deflate
Grass dies
Cars rust
Paint chips
Everything is temporary
Including that fleeting feeling
Where
Everything feels right
And
You get caught up
And
You fall into a routine
And
Then
The novelty of your existence wears off
You're all figured out, like a cheap magician's trick
Gimmicks all worn out, colors faded as if left out in the sun
A change of pace is needed perhaps?
You are boring me...remember?
And soon
Something that once felt as certain as five fingers and toes
Is toast