Around in circles, spinning fast,
Still not sure where I’m going.
Into the future, from the past,
The race is still ongoing.
The winding path is wild and stunning.
It seems to me I’m always running.
Struggling just to stay awake,
Attempting to find some peace.
Yearning for the smallest break,
Will the battle ever cease?
Quitting sounds so inviting,
Since it seems I’m always fighting.
Looking out and looking in,
Over, under and between,
Seeking til I’m back again
At the plays beginning scene.
Still unsure of where I’m perching,
It appears I’m always searching.
Upon the clouds, in flower beds,
Keeping out of clear view,
In fictional lands in my heads,
Fearing the truth might be true.
Rather than dealing or deciding,
I think I’m better off just hiding.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem