Circles

I can’t picture my life—
today, tomorrow, or whatever comes next.
A fleeting amnesia of the past,
where mistakes cling like stubborn shadows.
I’ve mastered the art of letting go,
but forgetting?—that’s a different story.
Every step circles back,
even as new melodies try to lead me forward.

Funny, isn’t it? How I keep tripping
over the same old rhythm.

And now, as the world slows down,
I glimpse a fragile shard of happiness—
so delicate, so ready to break.
What once had meaning
could easily turn hollow,
like a joke no one laughs at anymore.
Isn’t it tragic,
if I can’t keep this piece intact?

How long will I run these circles,
repeating the same tired lines, the same old mistakes?
I want to pause—just for a moment,
to step out of this endless loop,
because honestly?
None of it matters anymore.
I crave the vision of a life
that doesn’t feel like a rewind—
one where I’m not the punchline
in some cosmic joke.