Some would call life a journey,
With roads educationally paved.
I would call life a maze,
With confusion blocking the way.
What sometimes seems right is secretly wrong,
But who is pure of mistakes?
This maze of mine is torturously long,
And my soul can't afford the stakes.
Complexities litter every dead-end,
And dead-ends are part of the game.
Merciless walls unwilling to bend,
Obscuring the very path from which I came.
And so here I am, utterly lost,
Navigation leads only to despair.
I must find the way, at all costs,
But where is North of Nowhere?