Yelling at the Clouds

What are you running from?
Little man.

You keep moving
but end in the same place.

You keep pedaling
but there isn’t a race.

It’s not your dreams that haunt you, is it?
It’s not your past that haunts you, is it?
Little man.

It’s worse, actually.

I can see the ground shifting beneath
and you’re unable to hang on.

The man in the mirror
feels further with every dawn.

All because you cannot answer two simple questions.

Who are you? and how may you become yourself?

Who am I? and how may I become myself?

Until then,
Little man