I am lost, in the wooden forest of past,
Euphoria of work, seems dusted and rusted.
Excitement has been replaced by the hegemony of Failure vast.
And the enchantment of sucess, looks blurry in fast.
Stuck in quagmire of admire I was attached with,
Now it’s Choir of satire I am attacked with.
I know I have to begin, somewhere;
But this being of mire is everywhere.
Finding a way out of it is dreary and gloomy, and strength of mine is teary and weary.