With the evident privilege to enquire,
a fed belly, rested body but weary soul,
a soliloquy starts as my bed engulfs me,
It's nine in the morning and I've already had my quarter life crises,
across the soil are many others,
sleeping, striving, laughing and crying.

My head knows hope my heart feels hopeless,
I will pour my nother some tea, greet my father, hug my sister and call my brother.
I will use the rest of my life to love well, maybe then I'll feel some life.