Dear Kind Listener,

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I don’t want to be worn past my years.
These things don’t deserve such tears.
The only thing I know is how to self-criticize.
From here, maybe all that’s left is to improvise.
I need a hope, a happy thought, or just a way out.
Life is easier if there’s a way of living without.
With feet on the ground, and head up too high,
I’ll determine where I’d like to be, and maybe why.
The tracks to everywhere somehow erased,
I’ll find what I want and what’s crucial,
Firstly figuring out where happiness is based.





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