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“Borrowed Time”

The great mystery of time, is that it passes so fast
Where, has, it, all, gone
Blink once and it’s over, and we can’t do it over
So we give our undivided attention to the past

Present in constant motion, always moving forward
The speed of which is far too much
Decisions being made, despite not being ready
Even insignificant choices shouldn’t be rushed

Come to a conclusion, then make a decision
The repercussions of which we will live with forevermore
And once a choice has been made, it sets into motion
An unknown quantity of variables we’ve yet to discover

So abide we must, the lot that we’ve got
Because we’ve built it with our very own heady hands
And what is the outcome? Does it meet our expectations?
We don our hopeful lenses so that we believe that it does

As so we stare, at the truth laid bare
A bit of this, that, and so much more
But our lips are cringing, and our mind is wandering
Whilst time, OUR time, continues to disappear

There’s a knock-knock at the door, who could it be
As we’re not expecting any guests
And so we’re hesitant to answer, lest it be THE bone collector
Come to collect the ones that we’ve only ever been borrowing

One final breath, and how shallow it is
For we realize that the final stage has now arrived
So we hold on to that breath, so as to postpone that end
And so our last moments are spent in aggressive denial

error: Copyright 2020 Christopher Little. All rights reserved.