The world is spinning so fast, days, weeks, months disappear before my very eyes.
Stuck here alone in slow motion, time fast forwards in rows of fuzzy lines.
Lost in this endless whirlwind, of highly questionable time. The years slip through my fingers, forgotten, never mine.
I must be lost in someone’s movie, held captive in another’s dream, time travellers keep killing butterflies, changing who I am, what I could have been.
When is my turn to be still? To live a day that’s only mine?
I want to hold here awhile, find a moment to just be.
If I’ve finally found out who I am, when do I get to be me?
Was I always just an actor in a play about my life?
A secret script hidden in fractures through my mind?
I want to tell my story, if I ever existed at all.
I want to find my words before the final curtain call.
But still I’m waiting in the darkness,
Waiting for my turn, here I’ll wait until the never comes,
with the lessons I should have learned.