There's a war going on inside
Exchanging hands with time
Its getting intense with time

Mother Earth weeps
As her son sleeps
In the puddle of his dreams
for weeks
Wondering in fantasy and what ifs

A plane grounded by doubt
Doubt sowed by opinions
Opinions informed by ignorance
Ignorance dressed up as wisdom

Now, dust calls home where once lived hope
Hands of time are catching up to him
Handing eviction notices to ambition
The daily grind dulling his edginess
Responsibility culling his happiness

And now he reaches a fork on the road
To either chase the excitement of discovery
Or welcome the lukewarm embrace of routine …
a true quarter life crisis