How eerie it is?
One thinks it's a waste of time
Another as sacred
One longs to feel it
The other hate the feeling
Like a flower blooming
It dies one day
But we remember its colour
How ironic, we get it when we don't want
And lose it when we want It the most
Just because we crave for the cofee doesn't mean they crave it at the same time
And it's not only for coffee