The wheel

Running, running for nothing.
Chasing, chasing for something.
What does it feel like, stress that is,
Clenched fists, tightening wrists

I wonder why I’m moving so fast to the next issue on my desk.

For the money I make, and the heartache it takes, I wonder
Is it all worth the risk?

I’m getting older now, to much to decide,

My mind is shifting, it demands recognition.

I don’t settle now like I did when I was twenty, just happy to be and having “quote” plenty.

Plenty of nothing, but I have hold:

Arms that grow stronger. I question there toll.