Rolling Times

You had chided me for being an escapist.
Escapism wasn't my destiny if I may insist,
More a desperation, a flash of indecisiveness,
A moment of hollow, the most I can express.

Running away after myself, to find me back again
Final resort to stop the loss, stop the excruciating pain
Re-energizing Eh? Too cocky a term
Simply a sojourn from the torrid times, just to reaffirm

The monotonicity pervading through the plains
The everlasting seas slowly drifting to the undulating mountains
But the refuge I seek abruptly shrinking space
The sufferers increasing too, leading to another race.

Th rat-race I despise, catching up to me another time
The world forsaken for all those thoughts sublime
These times are nearly cry, wish thoughts could take a rest
But roll on as usual, too sheepish to decide in haste.