I'll apologize upfront for my shitty poetry, but it sounded pretty good when I first wrote it, or maybe it was just the copiuos amounts of drugs I was taking...

bad poetry from a bad poet

nights, days, vacations, it all flows together in the end
we wake up
do what we do
then return to our places of slumber
next days are relative to their yesterdays
people come and people go
the world remains the same

yet we fall in love with it
and we provide the emotions and joy
the meaning we try to convey
to make the world a “better place”

change is sometimes needed, however
by the time we grow old it’s too late to change
and death becomes a realization
mistakes of the past are avoided through the wisdom
passed on to future generations

in the end we are what we are
and all that that is is some dust from the stars
convincing ourselves of anything greater
makes life interesting

and the industries grow
and philosophies change
but the people remain themselves