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This is a reflective poem about how I change my mind more often than I'd like. |
| Oh self, how you astound me Never finding the place to be. Always this or that Never set firm. Oh little wanderous soul, Will you ever settle? Or are you doomed To always live a nomadic existence? So fragile you are. You change with the turning of the tide And the direction of the wind. When will you set root? What is your purpose? What are you seeking? What do you want from this world That takes more often than it gives? It is you that must conquer... Must toil... Must trudge... And pave a road to be set before you. Your dreams will not be handed to you. This world is not sympathetic to your emotions. It spins and rotates On an axis of peril As it has always be doing. What you don't fight for Will be taken from you. Oh self, you must decide Where your wanderous soul will take you. |