Time poem. What I do with it. How much I don't have. |
Time I waste too much of it. I spend it doing useless activities that don't get me anywhere closer to creating goals, let alone reaching them. I watch others dance around blissfully talking about how they don't have any time to do all the things they need to. I sit like a lard lump in the corner wondering why I don't have time to do all the things I should be doing. I waste time thinking about how much time I'm wasting. About how I wish I could click rewind and tell my little self not to eat so much and to go talk to that boy, to apologize to that friend you lost touch with. To tell her to play sports and get involved and sing more often, you have a great voice. Go talk to your parents and tell them everything, don't hold it in, because trust me it sucks. I wish I could go forward in time just to see if I made it. To see if I lost that weight or met a guy or had children. I want to convince myself that I don't need to go back in time to tell myself to do different. Tell me I did exactly right. Please. Time is the worst and best and most uncontrollable thing on earth. It can be fast or slow, good or bad, memorable or oh-god-let-me-just-forget-my-life. You can't stop it or control it in any way. It can make someone go mad. It can make someone get frustrated. But since you can't make it do what you please, Do things worth writing, say things worth quoting, make friends worth remembering, make love worth lasting, Just make your time spent here worth being spent. |