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Poem

The fiend of time is preying on the substance of my youth,
I’m smoldering away existence to avoid the awful truth
That time is not my friend and the enemy is myself,
And there’s little more to do but accept its mocking stealth.

In a blink of an eye it’s gone, like it was never there before,
All those years I’ve wasted, when I should’ve been doing more.
Planning for the future or treating each day like the last
But living in the fast lane you don’t even see it pass.

Suddenly you realise that time is slipping away,
A terrible fear is rising with every passing day
The life style that we lead is a fast track to demise
And even with this knowledge we will not compromise.

When I look at my reflection I see what is yet to come,
This pleasing image standing here is soon to be undone.
And when ten years have passed and the image comes to life,
What will I be thinking then, having gone through all that strife?

The fiend’s grip is closing in with no time for preparation,
The waiting room of life where we’re chained by anticipation
Of traumas to unfold of which we’re blissfully unaware
The fiend of time ticks on for a world that doesn’t care.

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