A Subtle Pain

The weary weight of habit's chain,

A comfort worn, a subtle pain.

We cling to what we know, it's true,

But growth resides in morning dew.

The snooze that steals the bright sunrise,

The empty carbs that dim the eyes.

The scroll that feeds a mind astray,

These whispers tempt us to delay.

We dream of fields bathed in the sun,

Yet stay in bed, the race outrun.

A voice within, it softly pleads,

To break the mold, to sow the seeds.

For change, though hard, a promise brings,

Of vibrant life on liberated wings.

So let us rise, with gentle hand,

And break the chains of this tired land.