• The daily routinte cumbers my mind.
    My body is left fatigued by the seemingly mundane,
    And I am left in a weakened state, only to retreat.

    My mind lost in a helix,
    My thoughts without end,
    My court without verdict.

    Am I so pathetic?
    A mouse too timid to peer from its hole yet too insignificant to notice?
    Too weak to even face the sun each morning?


    Perhaps it is I that burdens the day.
    Perhaps it is my own sloth and mourning that intrigues the sun to watch me so menacingly.

    I can hear him mock my every step.
    He laughs without the slightest hint of mercy or pity as I wander aimlessly.
    An animal struggling to find its home,
    And yet with none to belong to.

    I am stranded in a world to which I don't belong,
    To which I am not wanted, am not needed, do not wish to live in.
    To which is not my home.


    Yet I need but wait for the sun to set,
    I need but cling to my sanity, if only for the slightest moment
    To leave.

    Once the sun is gone,

    My mind has leaves
    My thoughts organize,
    And weave a tapestry too complex to be explained.
    And even as I stare at the ceiling of my own room,
    I am not there.

    I have gone into a world to which I belong,
    To which I am wanted, I am needed, I wish to live in.
    And to which is my home.

    But every day, I fear I travel too far into the world to which I belong.
    It is a utopia too placid to be ignored,
    But if too far I stray,
    I fear I may not return.
    And be lost, to the world that I belong.