This life
It’s like a constant wishing
A constant waiting
For something
I am not sure I desire
This hole inside me
Or maybe
I am the hole itself
A tornado
Gushing
Never settling
No one comes near me
To see my insides
Or do they?
Until they dive
Until they strive
And till —they die
Who am I?
What do I need?
How do I feel?
Pacing
Back and forth
Withering without growth
I am fading away
Like cigarette smoke
An old joke