I Grow Tiresome
I feel like I’m stuck in the gap of time.
I’m unpleasantly trapped in the hourglass that is my lifespan, and am ever covered in the grains of sand that embody moments lost. At this point, I am chest deep and struggling to breathe. I am restricted . With every breath I take, the grains get closer, just when I haven’t yet figured out what I want to do with the rest of the moments; those of which will eventually suffocate me with my own mortality and I’m left yearning to scream. I’ve never been a damsel in distress but if I don’t call for help, I will never be able to find that person that will guide me out of the glass; just as others need that person to guide them through their own lives because the thought of living is terrifying enough without the crippling fear of going through it alone. I wish someone could just throw me even so much as a line of string. I have much to do and I’m not quite satisfied with being consumed just yet.
Comments