The daily routine bores the pants off me,
I feel like the guy in The Groundhog Day.
The smell of boredom is turning my tummy.
If it doesn't change, there'll be hell to pay.
I wait until I'm told where to get off.
Guess, I'm gonna kiss the future goodbye.
I'm stuck in the present and feel like a goof,
Baffled to give an answer to another why.
I can still tell everybody's fortune,
Yet there's nobody around to tell me mine.
I'm not even sorry I'll miss my option
If abruptly the bleak sun refuses to shine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem