I look around,
days, nights, evenings…
different directions,
and all the possible ways…
I can’t see anyone.
And I say to myself,
‘it’s just one of those days’...
The brain is tireless,
Busy as a beaver.
It thinks, thinks and it thinks,
at its own wicked pace…
Tried to contain it,
to hide it and guide it.
But now it shows on my face…
To be or not to be,
to wait or to move ahead,
to see or not to see,
to submit or to break free…
