Time

I am scraped across the Earth by the inexorable press of time.

What will remain, I wonder, when comes my day to die?

What wonderful, colorful trails are left by greater souls than I—

I am scraped across the Earth by the inexorable press of time.

To run from the inevitable, one must prolong one’s every moment—

With vampiric lust latch onto every second that came and went,

Until one’s life is filled with time lamenting how time was spent.

To run from the inevitable, one must prolong one’s every moment.

“Why wait and think when you could live?” they ask, but I don’t know

How to want to advance when only behind I see that glow—

They run to something I cannot glimpse, and I am left alone.

“Why wait and think when you could live?” they ask, but I don’t know.