Beating the Clock
A troubled sigh
From dehydrated lips.
A squint from drooping eyes.
A shaky hand with bitten nails,
wiping a frowning brow.
Minutes pass.
Heart beat is racing,
Racing against the clock.
A worried glance at the disappearing seconds,
One victorious sigh.
A closed book
A head gone to rest and running away to dreamland.
How did I get here?
Why the torture?
I didn't sign up for this.
Why?
Dark reality.
Strengthened moral.
Confusion lifted.
All grown up.
This poem is about:
Me