Lost

I walk around in circles
Always coming to the same place
Wandering blindly
Like the end of the human race.
I turn in these halls
Around a thousand times over
Where's my good luck charm
My four leaf clover.

It feels like these halls go on
Neverending circles
Where's one when you need one
One of Gods greatest miricles.
These halls turn my stomach
And churn my mind
It's the end of sanity
As my brain starts to wind.

1998
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

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