This life of everything else

To go back to a forgotten haunt,

Sit on the steps like the old times

And pretend I'm there early

That I'm only waiting. 

My time has become your prize

To be spent in servitude

But would you spare just a little

Only to pretend otherwise?

I'm tired of the constant battle

You wrestle away so much

But would you at least let me 

Think that I have won?

You have forged a strange path:

Groping blindly at what might come

I stare, clearly and constantly

At all that has been lost. 

I hope that at least you are entertained

By this life of everything else

And in return for the amusement

Could you grant me ignorance?