After being rolled and worn and sweetened by the years,
I should be round by now, with some smoothness to the taste,
but the jagged shape I'm in is something to see.
I think it's because I kept wanting to go further —
tossed myself, got shattered, and then tossed myself again.
Uphill or downhill,
I should have just let myself roll..
Groaning, pushing, then dragging,
and finally throwing myself out with a muttered "ah, screw it" —
that, I think, is the reason.
At the icy glare reflected in the monitor,
I quietly look away.
