Is it circumstance
Or that time in life
When the focus is inwards
And questions are rife
Am I just getting old
Said with heavy sigh
Looking in the mirror, asking
What am I?
The statement echoes
A hollow sound
No responses forthcoming
Or reasons inbound
I could list one or two
Sure, but is that enough
Or even the right answers
Given from off the cuff
Play twenty questions
Purely with myself
Try to work out my niche
And place on the shelf
It's a bit like a crisis
The identity sort
Each exam that is sat
Results keep coming up short
Churning over and over
Who, what, when, and how
It's staring to grate
A little, somehow
The absence of feedback
Is killing me so
What am I?
Wonder if I'll ever know
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.