I was born and live and will die a wanderer.
Through space and time I will find no foothold.
My insides will always feel unsettled,
and this hand I've been dealt of discontent will never fold.
It doesn't matter who I find or where I go.
This feeling's roots go too deep, they're too old.
The only thing I've got is hope,
though it's locked far better than Pandora's box.
Is there at all, a key to this lock?
No comments:
Post a Comment