I feel it now
- the pull of familiarity –
my feet pulling
me down
that old familiar road.
The urge to run to
the comfort
of what is known
- despite the knowledge
that it is miserable –
It is instinct
to retrace your steps
- the action is almost
an unconscious one.
But I do not have
the luxury of
repeating old patterns
- it will be my end.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem