Meant to Live.

Fumbling his confidence, And wondering why the world has passed him by.

Days go by,

The clock's ticking slowly,

Agitating us all.

 

We hope to waste every slow second that passes on something beautiful

But when we see with our eyes that the clock's not ticking as slow as percieved,

& We waste our time on something hideous & vile,

We reject ourselves.

 

We can't make up time, can't take it back.

We aren't allowed to trade memories, or throw them away.

 

Once we waste our time, we are shunned from the beautiful paradise of

Spending it on something beautiful.

Author's Note

When I say "Beautiful" in this poem, I mean, "Worth looking back on, & reminiscing joyfully about without a cringe or a regret in mind."

Reviews

[F. Nazarov]

We hope to waste every slow second that passes on something beautiful
But when we see with our eyes that the clock's not ticking as slow as percieved,
& We waste our time on something hideous & vile,
We reject ourselves.

Isn't it true, I spend most of my time trying to
convince people (mainly my sister) that life is too
short.
It is agitating and frustrating to see such potential and
not be allowed to fulfill it.