So I’m sitting on a park bench with my miscontent
My discontent.
For what surrounds me I see
I can’t be free
And neither can you.
You sit in sleep
Waiting for what comes
But it never arrives.
Its ill contrived
What you think you should be
What you think you see.
But really your just sitting next to me too
Waiting for what troubles you
To leave
To also be free.
But it reenters the cycle
Only to repeat
The Future of which
You can’t defeat.
It repeats
And Repeats
And Repeats…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem