The world spins and time in turn passes,
An age I have stood still motionless to moving masses,
While they have lived and loved, fell and settled down,
I fell into the distance, like wallpaper disappearing into the background.

Love I have never found, there is so much I haven't done,
I've never done a thing that would begin me, so I haven't yet begun
I cannot focus away from living onto a life to live,
Nor if I could do I have anyone to live it with,
But my mind seems fixated and filled with death,
Of a life no longer lived and memories we simply forget,
Futility rests in living a life, is certainly how I feel, that all too easy life is grave,
Though I am grateful for life I have it is solemn solace that I crave,
If this should be a quick result and only lie in lovers arms,
Then quickly I shall bolt, to bring halt, without fault to end this eternal rage with calm,
But how am I to find love? Or is this not so and it must seek me?
Through deadly life and fickle thoughts deaths veil blinds me not to see,
If books and poetry and arts do hold my balm,
Then I shall withdraw away from life further away from harm,
I would spend my life to seek it here,
But then the life, would then not be lived, or so I fear
A realisation which will only dawn when darkest night is near.

So in my worry I idly fret stand still in lament, this fear forging me feet of lead,
Eternally stalks dreams and haunts within my head,
Clenching my tongue in beautiful company so beauty's words are never said,
Leaving me a life guided by the blind and too as poorly led.

The world stops spinning
And time stands still
I still have not comprehended life
And I don't think I never will.