Life

Looking over the precipice of life,
Perched precariously on it's edge.
Knowing, not knowing the future at hand.
Living the past like I'm dead.

 

Pushing past memories.
Trying to secure,
A hope that seems far out of reach.

 

Living each day,
Not staying away,
From waves of the past
Crashing the beach.

 

Constantly
I close my eyes
To a future to bleak to behold.

 

And from every corner
Every nook of my soul
I realise that I am getting old.

 

Where did the time go.
Why did it run
To a future filled with despair.

 

I quit the race
But I was still made to run.
What type of runner doesn't care ?

Reviews

[misha]

Beautifully written.Very well done! I can tell that there is maturity in this piece that I hope to gain as I get older.

[Donna-Marie]

Thanks for your review. Very encouraging.