Wandering Mind

Jobless me, with restless thoughts,
Running circles, tying knots;
A tired mind that will not rest,
Questioning if it’s doing its best.

“Why am I so stupid?” echoes near,
Fed by doubt and silent fear;
But hearts weighed down speak harsh at times,
Especially in unfinished climbs.

A phase is not a final name,
Nor struggle proof that you’re to blame;
Even lost roads someday bend
And broken thoughts don’t mean the end.