My wandering soul


Every morning

It is the same old, same old

The routine

The chores

The life

Do you not find it boring?

Repeating your actions

Or are you content?

That means I am the freak

The one who is restless

Searching, looking, wandering

Is there more to my life?

What am I missing?

What am I searching for?

Is it here? Is it there?

Is it good? Is it bad?

Is it tangible? Or not?

Does it exist? Or not?

Here comes another day

And another

And I look and I search

The day goes away

Bringing in another new one

I sigh, I brood

Maybe I need to change my perception

Maybe that will cure my restless soul

My wandering spirit

Or maybe not

I will wait

For the night

My demons will take over

And numb my pain

Then I will rest

My poor, blighted soul.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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