a world where time swiftly races,
from dawn's first light to evening's traces
seeking rewards in life's fleeting chases,
minds askew and hearts in icy laces.
love's pursuit is a perilous game,
madness rampant, fueling the flame
no time to pause, no moment to claim,
slowly self-destructing, what a silent shame
the clock ticks on, a relentless drive,
chasing survival, barely alive.
unaware of the truth, we strive,
mere puppets of time, in its constant hive.
one day, time's pace will gently wane,
lost in the vast ocean, no refrain
no stories left, no emotions to feign,
as the clock stops, our end is plain
redeem your path, seize the hour,
enjoy the journey, it's not over
master time, in your own bower,
embrace the stillness, like a delicate flower.
YOU ARE READING
DEAR SELF,
PoetryHear love's bittersweet song, Loss and discovery, where hearts belong. Through verses deep, emotions unfold, A journey of self, in stories untold. Join this odyssey of love and strife, In "Dear Self," find the essence of self-love. (A collection of...
