Coming of age is tough
One ends up sitting in a table,
drinking coffee on his own
Cigarette in hand, thoughts scattered
Dreaming, soaring, sometimes believing
The goal one wanted all along
Is just there within reach
But when so suddenly one reaches for it
Just illusion
So one sits, wonders still
Until finally it dawns
He created the fold
He fancied the illusions
To believe
That life is meaningful
