Like a defective compass, I don’t know where to turn,
Which direction to go down, which path to spurn.
I’m in a downward spiral, a maze of my own making,
Trapped by fear, though a route’s there for the taking.
Directionless, aimless, I plod along with no end in sight,
With no straight tunnel nor aspiring white light.
I dream of having a dream, a clear-cut trail
A way out, an exit where I succeed not fail.