Plagued with hope
we travelled
our vein-like city streets
looking for the road less travelled
hoping
it’ll take us
to tomorrow.
But
our dry
inhales
and
exhales
have started to burden
our lungs
and chafe
our insides.
Our hearts
sick of repetition
started
skipping beats
just for something to do.
Our travels
have led us
nowhere.
We
went
only
in circles.
Our hearts
giving our confusion
a beat
to dance to.
Maybe
tomorrow
is a land
promised
for people
who
aren’t us,
but we
have
spent
too long
chasing after
a mirage,
our feet
no longer
know
how to
stop
twirling.