
I sat, perched up, on my spinning top
whirling all about.
It spun and spun without a stop
my head all filled with doubt.
The more I spun the more I thought,
I guess there’s no way out.
If this top won’t stop, where will I go?
I asked myself with fear.
I suppose I’ll always stay right here
Or always somewhere near.
I dangled my feet over the edge…
Do I dare make a move?
But before I could answer, that spinning top
Paid its final dues.
What’s next, I thought, with no spinning top?
I guess I won’t yet know.
At least I’m done spinning all around
going everywhere but tomorrow.
About the Creator
SJ Simpson
Just a young adult navigating the complexities of life and emotions through short stories and poems. The pseudonym SJ Simpson came to me when I was about 13 and stuck with me ever since.
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