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Personal Note:

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Poem

Sometimes, the air is too muggy-
it's hard to catch your breath
you trip as you run up the stairs-
too fast
too much 
too soon

it's life.

It doesn't slow down, 
pause or give you room to breath

Man's construct of time is treacherous-
it eats away at the inevitable-
it rushes you to fulfill your destiny
by pressuring you to obtain societies' duties-

which are also man-made
a construction of our world-
manipulation at its finest-

what happened to our youth?
When time lasted,
Moments were cherished and continuous-
then sometime around adolescence, 
we lost the joy of life 
and instead, focus on time's constraints

soon everything is measured by time,
all is constructed according to our linear understanding
we don't fully live in the moment-
rather expecting and anticipating the next moment

this leaves us all;
living in the future-
stuck, frustrated with time's pressures

How could man create such a thing
that destroys our pure existence

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