PRISONER OF TIME 2 © 2008

In haste, the error,

That insinuates itself without warning,

Crooked the lines,

Where the train loses its sense.

The destination, once charted,

Now diverts on the abrupt curve,

And the exile, on the wrong path,

Becomes the corrupt consequence.

In the speed of desire,

We forget the necessary caution,

And what was meant to be,

Turns into a precarious journey.

The train continues, but without direction,

Lost in the crooked lines of living,

And the exile, like smoke,

Is the price of not knowing how to wait and see.

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