Late

A frustrated poem about one of my worst habits.

I feel surrounded by countless fears

The world for me has nothing but hate

It’s getting harder and harder to hold back the tears

For I have an infamous tendency to be late

And that’s just how they would phrase it too

So holier-than-thou with their watches

In this world swiftly turned to zoo

Time is king and we are just the notches

My teacher felt the urge to inform me today

That I am late in every way

Late in my work, late in my location

Late in choosing my perfect vocation

And even if you try your hardest

Treat your task as a craft

If you were there the latest

Everyone will view you as daft

Well from now on I will try hard to be on time

I’ll cut the corners and muddle through the grime

This problem brings me so much shame 

And my peers always choose my head to blame

But never assume that I don’t care

Do not believe I enjoy this flaw

For like all the great singers and witty writers rare

My punctuality will someday leave the world in awe

Author's Note

I try to work on this but being late is one of my perpetual bad habits and it has been a problem my entire life. I have been lectured about this by teachers and profs all my life.

I also feel that there is an unwritten shame in being late which is more harsh than the shame for other bad habits. I really don't think it's that big a deal if you are late (especially if it's only by a small amount of time) but many people have a very strict attitude towards punctuality and consider it worse than other equally bad habits.

Reviews

[RANDOMNESS.com]

I know the feeling.