Everyday, it is all the same,

The places I go and the things I do.

Everyday, it is all a game,

To see if I can feel a deeper shade of blue

There is a rut before me,

And there is a rut behind,

The inner walls grow taller than a tree,

Leaving the darkness' way the only thing I can find

There are times when I stop and sit,

To ponder and sigh

And there are times when my teeth would grit,

Or release a heavy cry

Indeed, what I see aren't any different,

What I do is redundant

I try not to be inflated with resentment,

But my feelings would become defiant

They would be, after spending years in this narrow hall

Why does everything seem so endless?

When does this end, above all?



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