Road to nowhere

streetlamps
black cats
fingers typing this and that
poetry slipping through the cracks
every time I think a little on what I lack
books piled upon the shelves
untouched full of dust
keeping to themselves
I have no idea where I am going
no idea as to what this is showing
except perhaps boredom mixed with regret
passing the time
achieving very little at best

but why
I ask myself

because I can
because I must
because I cannot ever think of giving up

Again.

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2 thoughts on “Road to nowhere

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