They brought me to this shop,
told me I had ran out of luck.
Knocked me down, fetched me up.
You run to forget, people often said.
But I just ran out of passion instead.
Last two years I've been moving water
and pushing weights,
believing that the objects of my affection
would always wait.
And yes,
I was afraid.
So dry your eyes, mate
The world needs a clown or a criminal,
not a writer.
Words cannot replace the rage, the fuel
you tanked to alter the course of your life.
Stop being a fool
and switch to a lower gear.
Hybernate during the repair
and accept this prison time before you can
reappear