Round and round, I am bound
to get dizzy. Sometimes, I feel
like my head is spinning. Brains
possibly missing. Beans possibly
spilling. Like a whirlwind, I spin
round and round, dancing to
the sound of a familiar song
What goes up must come down.
It’s just a circle, not a hurdle.
For the last time, I will jump off
this whirling hamster wheel.
Time to get off the roller-coaster
that makes nothing feel real.
I’m losing count of the days.
I’m not winning this game.
Many moons have fallen
before my eyes. Many stars
have burnt out. Many nights
have come. Many times,
I’ve lost track – lost count.
The number of times?
I’ll never know the amount.
I lose track of the time
as I pen lines that rhyme.
Sometimes, I wish I knew
how many times in life
that I have counted
the same day twice. Still,
the count is gone: lost.
Each line that I’ve drawn
has now been crossed.
Countless of times, I have
wasted time recounting.
Now, I think to myself:
I should’ve been rounding.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 