People say, “You only have one life,”
then never let you enjoy it.”
They ask,
“Do you like tea or coffee?”
But how can I choose
when I love the bitter truth of coffee
and the soft aroma of tea?
They ask,
“What’s your favorite color?”
But every shade holds a part of
Red, blue, green, white—
how can I hate any of them
when they paint the soul I carry?
They ask,
“What kind of music do you like?”
But every song tells someone’s truth.
Every artist pours their spirit into sound.
How can I limit myself to one rhythm
when every note feels like home?
They ask,
“What’s your favorite place?”
But how can I say
when every place I’ve been
feels like home
because I make it so.
They ask,
“What’s your favorite day?”
How do I explain it’s every day,
because every day
I wake up again?
They say,
“Life is hard.”
But is it?
Or are we the ones
making it harder than it has to be?
— Riri
