I clock into work,
with dried-up, dead eyes,
pulling myself together somehow,
trying in vain to hide the cracks.

I drag myself through the hours,
my mind numb, yet restless,
unable to silence the noise,
the endless chatter of thoughts.

The same keeps replaying-
the endless hum of expectations,
the echoes of lost passion,
and the whispers of a life unlived.

This place was for me once,
a source of solace and purpose,
now feels like a river,
drowning me in the weight of routine.

The innocent smiles of the kids,
once enough to light my days,
now feel distant,
like stars I can see but cannot touch.

The joy they once brought,
a happy feeling I no longer feel;
yet the need to be occupied,
brings me back to the same place.

Nothing excites me now,
nothing comforts me,
except the memories you left behind-
fragile, fleeting, yet fiercely alive.

Like treasures in the dark,
I keep seeking them,
pieces of us and myself,  
holding on to each one of them.

Because those moments of joy,
buried beneath the weight of time,
are simply what I want to,
need to remember.