What’s the point of moving forward when
Something inside you keeps dragging you back?
You think you’re making progress
But in fact you haven’t budged an inch.
You’re worse than a snail that moves ever slowly,
You’re more like a slug.
There was a time when you were carefree like a butterfly
Fluttering its wings, flying to and fro
Its beautiful colors alluring and attracting
There was a time when you felt lucky like a lady bug
Proudly red with a polka dot bikini sun bathing
In the garden of youth.
Those days are gone and winter is coming
Every day for the rest of your life
You wish you could go back into the cocoon
A place of warmth and protection where
You were still nothingness but life was
Yet ahead like a pomegranate full of juicy seeds.
When all is done, you see yourself not much
Different from the forgotten raisins dried on the branch
Or the withered prune ready to fall from the tree
To meet its end either scattered
On the ground… or far below it.