Her head hangs like an anxious child
Staring intently at the toy on the floor
She wants something to play with
She wants something to make hers
She wants to own a part of the world
But she can’t

So it is the way of the unconscious
Needlessly begging for something
Anxiously hoping for something
Aimlessly striving for a purpose
She wants to own a part of the world
But she can’t

She can find her purpose
She can get what she wants
But for how long? Is that all there is?
A time with which we wait and toil
And debate and long for
Time is nothing, Time is all
Which one is it?