Withering Haste

The constant is the same
Even after the turning point
I’m failing despite regrets
I’m withering as the autumn leaves
And I know I was supposed to feel
This inexhaustible vitality
With every single change
And overcome the fact
That I bear no outstanding scars
That I’ve been living life
With average prosaic dilemmas
Yet I can’t change the fact
That I’m always experiencing
This feeling of woe
This urge to collapse
I make haste to wish differently
Still I can’t let go of the coin