A somber canvas, life's unyielding scheme, We mold our souls, lost in another's dream. Like sculptors, we shape our hearts to fit, A box too small, where true selves we omit, The past and the herd, our compass and guide, In their shadow, we lose, to them, we bide. Yet cracks form in this castle of glass, As we glimpse our reflection through a broken pass, Traitors to conformity, independence our crime, In the quest for belonging, we wither over time. "Via ad Tranquillitatem," in shadows it sings, Of souls resigned to life's relentless stings, They seek in death's shadow, a gentle reprieve, From a world that offers no solace, they believe. In whispers and verses, I find my way, To ponder the questions that fill each day, Might silence of death hold the key, I implore, To tranquility for this restless soul's core? To shatter the box and unveil my true self, To live for me, not someone else, The path to serenity, obscured though it seems, I'll face my fears, follow my dreams.