​Behind

No matter the accomplishment, Reaching that thing — Painted as a glorious feeling, Should I cheer within?

Yet nothing. Just the dread of beginning again, Just another loop, never-ending.

The mind keeps sending The same message, never bending — Even in the midst of plenty.

Forever feeling empty, As if behind — stuck as a sentry, As if life ends similar to entry.

And that… awakens wrath within.