Why the hell don’t you hit back even harder,
Against that bastard called Father Time’s decay?
Fix your shit now—build something that’ll last,
Instead of watching your best years slip away.
There’s still good ground where tomorrow can take root,
Places untouched, where something real can grow;
Living proof beats polished words every damn time,
More than these lines could ever hope to show.
This ink might sketch you while you’re looking sharp,
But flesh and blood leave fingerprints that stay;
You owe yourself more than a faded snapshot,
Or likes that vanish by the end of the day.
Give Time the finger—leave more than your reflection;
Live on through what you build, not just recollection.
Discover more from The New Renaissance Mindset
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.