We wallow in our disappointments, miseries, and doubts,

We wallow in our ruts. 

Making no effort to change them, just trying to disregard the stale air. 

Even what we see as new is only a permutation of the same old song, 

New people, same as the old people, 

Same thoughts, same beliefs, same ruses, same cons, same dances, same songs. 

The ones we’ve always known that have never filled our souls. 

We trap ourselves in routine of thoughts, regrets, 

But we do not seek to address the issues, to face the music, 

To throw ourselves upon the mercy of fate and break free.

We lose out hearts in others’ expectations and our own obstinacy,

Afraid to lose our assigned paths, our perfected personas, 

Afraid to step outside our world … though it has never fulfilled us.

We let go of what we wanted and settle for what we don’t, 

Telling ourselves that it will do, but it never really does.

And time ticks on as we grow old, sealing us into the pattern, 

Setting us in the ways we never hoped for. 

We fear confrontation, though it’s what we really desire,

Truths admitted, embraces shared, passions finally lived out. 

We let them go. 

We lie to ourselves to avoid taking the risk we should have. 

We make ourselves forget, 

And we lose everything we could have had to arrogance and fear of change. 

We wallow in our ruts of mud. 

We tell ourselves a new rut from the old is novel,

And finally convince ourselves that it’s what we’ve always wanted, 

Until we wake one day and see that we have gone nowhere, 

Still in the same situations we always were and always will be, 

Find the flowers we smelled every morning as a fresh day died long ago, 

At the same time we gave up our dreams,

Now covered in dust of years passed. 

And then see clearly that the horizon we cherished and hoped to go to one day,

Is only a fence that kept us hemmed in, an illusion we forced upon our minds. 

But it is too late. 

We find that love has gone, flown away to where we should have followed when we had to chance. 

Then we die.