Why do we focus on the past,
When it’s already gone,
And the time we spent there
Wasn’t even that long.
If you’re in May, and
You’re thinking of December,
Return to today,
And try to remember. It’s still May.
No one knows the future,
And we’ve been through the past,
Best we live in the present,
And try to make it last.
All the things we’ve done,
Are only things to remember,
Tomorrow never comes,
But now is forever.
My body is motionless,
My face expressionless,
And in this weariness,
I feel emotionless.
Eyes struggle to stay
Open, just as they
Have been the whole day,
When I was still awake.
But the hour is late,
Cannot concentrate,
And time will not wait
For my exhausted fate.
To dreamland I creep,
With the counted sheep,
Before I’m lost in this deep
Rejuvenating sleep.
We can all feel it,
Something just hit
Us hard and we notice
Time’s running out and
We gotta split,
Off unto different paths,
On different roads on a map
That we all built,
Yet somehow it’s like
We can’t even decide
How we feel until
We end our last ride.
We’re barely a class,
And far from team,
Yet in this dream
That’s ending so fast,
It seems like the last
Time we seem
To want a blast.
So until it ends,
Let’s go again
And all pretend
To be friends,
For one last fling
Before we swing
To the way we bend.
It felt so cold,
When it brushed my arm,
But it then it circulated,
And now it’s warm.
The winds of change,
That blow through here,
Freezing the mind,
In a thickening air.
They cover the strong,
And shudder the weak,
Yet in my temperament,
A new truth leaks.
As with those winds,
I will storm this path of mine,
Brushing the arms of the forgotten,
Leaving the weak behind.
They hang over my eyes,
Blocking my sight,
And they cover these eyes,
Trying to block all light.
Sometimes they fall,
And land on my eyes,
More irritating than dust,
Making me somewhat blind.
Then I suppose my life,
Is not so different,
As the similarities here,
Are quite transparent.
For like my eyelashes,
Worries hang day and night,
And they may culminate,
To block all that light.
Then they grow and fall,
To cause unpleasant interaction,
To cover my path,
As a mere distraction.
To pluck these eyelashes,
Is to remove my troubles,
But if they were to grow back,
They would only double.
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