Crisis

Few odd kilometers now In this short walk. The feet all sore And the mind, sulk. "Who knows where the park is Or when the time to bed is?" The brain is full of shade. The head needs its shrewd. If the mouth won't say, The body would. "Is it permissible to be in the restroom? One needs to be at ease, soon." Thinking, "out of ten, I'm nine!" In truth, he's genesis in time. Conflicted youth in his prime. Tired! Feeling, "I need a peaceful rest. Hands folded, placed in chest!"