If only my life were an oxcart
That creaks down the road in the morning,
Very early, and returns by the same road
To where it came from in the evening.......

I wouldn't have to have hopes, just wheels.....
My old age wouldn't have the wrinkles or white hair........
When I was of no more use,
My wheels would be removed
And I'd end up at the bottom of a ditch,
broken and overturned.

Or I'd be made into something different
And I wouldn't know what I'd been made into...........
But I'm not an oxcart, I'm different.
But exactly how I'm different
No one would ever tell me.

~ Fernando Pessoa