375 ml Of Happiness: Selected Poems

open my eyes

the start-gun has fired

I miss it, and,

I miss it every day.

When I get on the streets

there are people running everywhere.

Perhaps they have heard the gun.

I am defeated every day.

I admit,

I am no good at this chase.

I go by my own pace,

slow,

and steady.

With no intentions to win this race.

Leave me alone,

and cut those strings.

Ask me nothing,

and, give me nothing.

I have my own burdens,

and a life to write.

I have my own ways,

A diary, a pen, and