A number of decades held to a hand
pass in time as clocks are rushed in circles
without much haste. It's a minor notion.
Thoughts, on the other hand, weigh more for less.
"I" may cease before I can conceive death.
What am I then? What am I to be now?
One day, I'll pass roadkill without much care
for its prior life, and it won't either.
So, today, I shall scorn my slothful self
to savor the silhouette of success.
With a character defined by madness,
one can find that I will never be lost.