Existential crisis - a poem about life

I wish I could stop the autopilot that governs my life

and jump out of the viewer’s place right into the match

cause I know I’ll regret it if I let it pass me by,

and there are infinite things I’d like to do before I die.

But living is a stranger to me,

I wish someone could introduce us

cause I don’t have the energy to be excited or content,

and it’s not that fun in the end

to be able to detach from every person, every friend,

at any given minute in time.

I know I should care more,

and it works in theory,

but practically, everything I experience is a real bore.

I keep doing things but I’m not present...

Can’t stop feeling like a little peasant,

property of the universe itself.