It feels tiring. There comes a day when we feel like we are not destined to reach our goal. Negativity lurks in, feet goes numb, mind keeps flapping episodes of the past. Sometimes you are full of words, but there are few who will churn a meaning out of it. It seems a crime these days to have depth. The shallower you are the happening you become. You sit in your corner, full of vigour something pulls out the spark and you lay like a dead leaf. Then you scroll down profiles, sighing about happy days and happy faces. You look at your pajamas and your messy hair. Now there's the yearning for a soulmate. But you are an old soul, who's gonna paint you with words? It's just a flash of flesh, and a shiny mess with no strings attached. No! You don't want that, and certainly they aren't that fool to be you. Fairytales looks good on the screens and books. It's a whole lotta baggage. You want to be discovered, praised for who you are. But heart is tired, still mind is at play. You still thrive, you still try to solve the maze. You join the pieces and find yourself lost in some labyrinth.