Comfort is like that super soft couch you never get up from—nice until you realize your greatest achievement is mastering the perfect nap.
Comfort is like that super soft couch that you can’t get up from—ever. One minute you’re settling in for a quick rest, and the next thing you know, it’s been three years and you’ve forgotten what outside looks like.
It’s the sneakiest addiction because it doesn’t scream “danger!” It whispers, “Stay a little longer, you deserve it!” before you realize you’ve binge-watched every show known to humanity and your dreams of world domination are now limited to being the king of takeout food.
So yeah, comfort’s great until you notice your life’s highlights include finding new pajama sets and mastering the art of the perfect nap.
Related Poem: The Silent Saboteur unveils the subtle allure of comfort, warning against its tranquilizing grip on ambition and growth.
Related Poetry by Belle
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