VERTIGO
Fazed at this crossroad,
weighed down by a truck load
of worries and wary.
Burdened by my bags of mystery.
This futile mortal journey,
from cradle to grave,
to vanity we are enslaved,
psychological shackles
and torturous manacle.
Trapped in this asylum,
the lingering question,
where did we all emerge from?
Shut the Venetian blinds
to my soul, my mind
seeing through the dark
as ideas lit a spark.
Faced with the stark
of reality. The crack
of dawn at sunrise,
I rise to soliloquize.
Looking back, taking a peek,
not even close to my peak.
I just flew over the moon
might hit my pinnacle soon,
Nostalgia and panic,
skull numb unable to think.
swerving to this vertigo
breezing with the wind flow
uncertain what the future holds.
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