repetitive
There is nowhere left to go.
Each twist and turn leads me here;
Like U-turn signs on both ends of the road
With no direction to steer.
I'm not being cynical.
Two steps forwards, two steps back;
This path I've been set on seems cyclical
And I think I'm about to crack.
There is nowhere left to go.
Each day, week, year feels the same,
And every minute just seems so slow—
I have no dreams left to claim
Is this a sign of madness?
Round and round I turn and twist:
Living the same, looking for new answers,
With a wish to not exist.