Am I feeling it?

Life is what you make of it.

What if I don't want to make anything of it?

I'm just a paper boat, bobbing in the sea.

The boats I wag past have their anchors cast:

Though they sway about, they stay around.

My anchor's on deck, wrapped over the mast.

It's been a long time—

maybe I just don't feel like untangling it—

So the current takes me away.