My Hold on Sanity
The rising sun was crimson;
The setting sun was rose;
Am I traveling east or west?
My compass doesn’t show.
The North Star was high in the sky;
The Southern Cross was low;
Am I going North or South?
Nobody seems to know.
I travelled for a thousand miles,
Ending in the same place where I did start;
Nothing really left to show for it,
Except my tattered, broken heart.
The circumference of my circle of life
Might be two-pi-r-squared;
But the only equation that I really care about is
With whom will I be paired.
My words make no sense to me;
They haven’t for a long, long time.
What really challenges my hold on sanity,
Is the fact they always come in rhyme.
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