Better than Bland

The way I see it,
There's the world, and there's me.
This is the advice:
Listen to all, but decide for yourself.
My battles or yours,
Everyone's are unique to them.
Some may be harder,
But we all have our own Hell.

Beneath my eyelids
This scene unfolds just for me,
In which there are
No silly love songs,
No sunny days,
No peaceful meadows.
I have my dark days,
My Karen blue nights.
I have my guarded pink mindset,
And my bed made of poppies.
But I have much more than this:
Endless ballads and revenge lullabies,
Sad hymns and gentle arias.
I have thunderstorms and
Snowy blizzards, hurricanes
And rainbow clouds.
And, rather than fields of bluebonnets,
I have this forest of oaks,
This line of mountains.
Isn't that much better than bland?
Isn't walking much better than riding?