there he sits, in the dim room.
cupping his face, he wonders:
as life passes by—what do I do?
and what have I done?
the result is, gradually, a lot.
and he’s happy with that.
but, at the same time, disappointed.
I want a quick result.
she thinks that he needs to stop catching myself.
he just needs to fall, otherwise he’ll never get up.
and life is just that way sometimes.