Time seems to stretch in all directions infinitely,
Am I not moving, or am I stuck on the background canvas?
Am I being lazy, or has hope left for real?
Why so much dullness is running through my nerves? 
Why is the road so flat, and why are there no curves?

"What time is it?"
"What day is on?"
"When did I send the last mail?"
"When should I send a reminder?"
"Why can't someone be a li'l kinder?"

Is this what waiting looks like, feels like?
Is the oxygen in my bottle slowly depleting?
The moon was full last night, and now it is slowly waning.
Why me, why now?
Am I too strong to bow?

The vibrance is dead, and the colors have drained,
The muck is real, but the hand cannot feel.
Coz the mind is foggy, so foggy...
The fumes are dying slowly, and yet it is still fuming,
Charring my soul and causing the burning.

But for how long? Till the next meander? Or till the one after that?
Why is it raining so hard?
How should I hold onto that twig?
How deep in my soul should I dig?

Hold on, hold on, hold on.
The scenes are slowly changing behind the curtains,
There will be light and sun and cakes!
The stagnant waters will flow again,
Time and tide do not flow in vain.

Hold on. 

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