MY CIRCLES

I keep meeting myself in circles,

bumping into the back of me

where I anxiously push but fail

to gain passage;

I am subject to my slow going

 

A turnstile of arms walls against me.

The success of passing one leaves

another in the width of my path;

always a barrier.

 

The ingredients of slow or fast

fail to change the circles I complete.

 

 

 

 

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