So many paths—
No one right direction.
Slowing at last,
I've come to learn lessons.
Every single day that rises
I fear is my end.
Someone halt it all for a second;
Let me catch my breath.
On to the next
Stop—
On to the next
Block—
On to the next
Shop—
Life doesn't stop.
I've lived in fantasies
For way too long.
This world's reality
Is to never be loved.
We're slaves, ants to be
Burnt up.
Our graves are trashy things
Not picked up.
And when the magnifying glass
Does come,
Then, you'll know everyone
Moves on—
On to the next
Stop—
On to the next
Block—
On to the next
Shop—
Life doesn't stop.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good poem; unfortunately, the lament of many of us. You expressed it so well.