Is this my midlife crisis,
my “what’s it all about?”
Everything that once were certain
is now vague and filled with doubt
The friends I thought I’d have forever
one by one have stepped aside
I’ve lost my grip on oh so many things
despite how hard I’ve tried
The urge to run away, escape,
grows stronger every day.
Am I unique in my frustrations,
or do others feel this way?
The things around me, they mean nothing,
most of the people, less than that.
These four walls around me are not home
it’s just the place I hang my hat.
When I consider my life’s purpose
there’s really nothing I can say
It's enough to do to figure out
the purpose of this day.
Jul 1, 2011
Jul 1, 2011 at 10:19 PM UTC
Is this my midlife crisis,
my “what’s it all about?”
Everything that once were certain
is now vague and filled with doubt
The friends I thought I’d have forever
one by one have stepped aside
I’ve lost my grip on oh so many things
despite how hard I’ve tried
The urge to run away, escape,
grows stronger every day.
Am I unique in my frustrations,
or do others feel this way?
The things around me, they mean nothing,
most of the people, less than that.
These four walls around me are not home
it’s just the place I hang my hat.
When I consider my life’s purpose
there’s really nothing I can say
It's enough to do to figure out
the purpose of this day.
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins
Request permission to use this poem