Neorânduirea firească a lucrurilor

The English Impatience

I am fading,
by the way,
nice and slowly
every day.

I am drifting
by mistake
to the right
or to the ache.

I am lying
on the floor:
I’m not lying

I don’t know
if I should go,
but I’ll stay:
it’s still my show.

I don’t know
if I should stay,
but I’m going,

Am I lying?
No, I’m not!
Who am I
to know the plot?!