I’m always in a hurry because I feel like I’m always running out of time.

It’s like I’m standing in an endless line waiting to get to my destiny.

Except, I don’t like lines and my destination is filled with expectations and declarations of dreams.

It seems like my twenties are flying by even though I’m twenty one.

I always jump the gun because what if the sun doesn’t rise.

What if I never fulfill my dream?

What if I never get to sing?

I’m always in a hurry because I am surrounded by clocks that tick and tock.

They put me in shock because another day has gone by…


People say I have the potential but potentially I could never make it.

And I can’t fake the weight that I feel in my chest when I see what my calling could be.

I’m always in a hurry because death doesn’t scare me, living does.

The longer I take to live the more pain I’ll endure but if I hurry I might just make it out in only a few pieces…

Peace says, ‘be still’ but my mind says, ‘run’.

Run to the finish line so you’ll finish fine.

My body is slow but my mind is fast.

I’m already in my forties and I haven’t accomplished anything.

I never got to sing. I never followed my dreams.

These are the things I think of. My body is twenty one but my mind is twice the age.

I’m in a cage instead of on a stage.

Turn the page.

I’ve died accomplishing nothing. Changing no one. Being no one. Just another wasted potential. Gone.

I wake up as my alarm goes off.

How old am I? Twenty one, still.

Still the thoughts that paralyze me into being too afraid to look away from the clock.

I don’t hear the tick.

I don’t mind the tock.


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