Rehearsal Poem by Quênia Lalita

I can't tell if my goals are twisted
or if my arms are too short for the world

I can't see the road while I'm walking on it
can't figure out if my intentions are either bad or good

I've had my fun with the minor mistakes
but couldn't grow out of them fast enough,

falling into a nest of snakes
then trying to catch up

I can't tell if my thoughts are too peculiar
or if I should buy a gun to protect astonishing lambs

if only I could have another chance
if only I could find something meaninful enough to make me wanna stay