Race

We all seem to run the same race always,
as if life were some invisible competition.

The race to hide our pain,
the race to be happy…
at least to survive, we must perform constantly.

In this race to keep ourselves hidden,
who knows when someone is losing, deep inside!

Tell me, why were you so withdrawn that day?
You seemed to grow still within your restlessness.
What was in your eyes—not sleep…was it weariness, then?

Will you rest a little now?
I'm here, you know!

Look, I have no stage to offer.
Come just as you are, exactly as you are—how does that sound?