Stuck between who I want to be and who I am.
One leg in the light, the other cemented in the past.
I look like a tortured statue worn out by time.
A monument to a wasted life.
Snow covers me,
wind blows it away,
the birds return,
the sun burns
and it never ends.
My identity was torn apart so many times
I can’t even pick up the pieces.
It’s like a puzzle from hell,
a punishment for not spending life well.
The biggest pain of them all?
Being a statue with a heartbeat,
not knowing where my soul is.
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