On Wasting Time

Time Flies
I am still the same fly
Flying around my sorrow

I am the lost fly
Searching for a lay
Somewhere to belong
Somewhere I could call home

I am the fly
Who gets up in the morning
and repeats what I do
Staring blankly on the ceiling

I am the fly
Who fly just around the box
Afraid of what's outside the box

I am the fly
I have functional wings
but always afraid to travel

I am the fly
Who does nothing but buzzing

I am the fly
Who keeps wishing to escape
but paralyzed

Here I am
The broken fly.