Circles in the Pour

No exit written in the stone,
Just marks that led me back alone.
The concrete hardens while I move,
Locked in in the same old groove.
I could run or walk, it's slow, either way I already know.
The destination never shifts,
Just the weight of all these gifts.
I thought I'd left behind, but they follow every time.
Counting steps that don't add up,
Drinking from an endless cup.
Patterns I refuse to see, until they're staring back at me.