My soul is careworn and homesick
a balloon that lost
most of its gas,
and cannot take flight anymore,
nor can it
concrete streets that go
nowhere in particular;
a maze of lust
and wasted possibilities.
I wrote this poem on the 22nd of April, 2006. More than nine years ago, and tonight I feel exactly the same way. So, what's new? Nothing, I guess. For all my efforts, I am still at the same place.
(The pictures are for reference reasons. It's all doom and gloom around this time in my mind. So yeah.)