Born into the world,
I haven’t got a map.
Don’t know where to go,
It won’t fall into my lap.
I take another path,
Hoping thats its better.
Then I reach the end,
Its like braving violent weather.
Days turned into years,
No real progress made.
Options without end,
Think I should just fade.
Now I wander lost,
Convinced this is a con.
It all looks the same,
Why can’t it be gone?
Sick of this charade,
Just take it all away.
Let me simply rest,
Come whatever may.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 