it's funny how i keep wishing to go back
yet i yearn to move in fast forward
my worries keep piling up in unending stacks
and i turn a blind eye to them like a coward
with every passing day
i keep more to myself than i say
to him, to them or anyone near me,
i don't even write it in my poetries
so much is going around
every thought is in circles
losing am i more than i've found
evading everything like a shirker
but stand i steadily on this shaking ground
relying on talent but never being a hardworker
everday i feel like a loser
who was beat at her own game
i feel like just another random doodle
who thought she could make her name
disappointment i am to everyone who ever believed in me
every minute alive i wonder where i'd be
but nothing's going to be real; only imaginary
an old soul who shall fade away in contemporary