I think I may be ready to exit
This human race, game of life
To become a recluse far away
From the politics and relationships
That daily chore of social interaction
People tend to disappoint me
And my patience has worn thin
The more modern the world becomes
The closer opportunity brings us
The more distant and lonely we get
It feels like we need to put on a show
With the bands and lights and scripts
Of conversations that we never actually have
I'm not checking out of life, no far from it
I'm checking out of the world
And all the filth that poisons it
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem