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Where does all my verve go
When I am already on a journey?
Why does it not carry in me?
The zeal to be riding a new horse,
All along the bumps and humps
Thrown my way;
That’s how every life has been paved.
Why does it spark
Only in the start?
And not when I need it the most,
When I am almost
Nowhere close to the finish line;
That’s when you need true strength,
It is nowhere to be found
Where despair thrives,
As it begins to pay my room rent.
It’s a downhill journey then,
And I roll like a stone
Without gathering any moss,
I know it’s a profound loss
That I have gained,
By not seeing things through;
I am after all blind
To everything that tastes of distaste.
I am an affair
Of picking and dropping things,
Like a curious child,
Finding everything in life
In his vicinity,
Losing interest with every haul,
Then dumping it in the backyard
As if it meant nothing at all.
Is it the promise it made with its destination?
Or is it the thrill of trying a new route?
I don’t know which one it is,
I am just playing with all my playthings,
I hope no one minds.

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