Me

A wheel on a bicycle a constant life of rotation, rotating in and out of different occupations, different situations, different locations, I’ve been to multiple stations in many different nations and endured multiple relations, but still I’m missing something. An integral piece to my functioning system, without it I’m no longer a useful mechanism, and it must fit perfect, down to the smallest detail, without a perfect fit it is certain to fail, and  if I don’t find it I’ll grow old and stale, rusted and ragged my frame will be frail, no longer rotating my wheel will be still.