Una volta in più

The shine of the watch, the hum of the plane, a glance at the clouds, and somewhere between all of this, a weariness from one's own victories flickers. It seems that happiness has been traded for status, and sincerity for the noise of applause. The city hums beneath your feet, but inside is that very silence where you can still hear the breath of the past. Expensive items lie as evidence of success, but each "success" now weighs a little heavier than I'd like. A hug is a rare currency, especially when everything else can be bought. And all that's left is to beg: "one more time," as if this time could bring back everything that was truly valuable before success, before the Lambo, before the sleepless nights.