marfrog

I hate the passage of time How it's spent and wasted When point A and diminished wait is shadowed by arrival I hate that even if the passing of time hadn't become my lasting stride, It would decline my offer to stay How do I make it matter? Written--carved in ink. Time should never mean nothing Point B should not diminish A or the in between. But I feel like a shade when I realize a car ride in the backseat will be forfeit for the future That I'll want this wasted summer--between senior year and college--contained in my hand When death is closer than I'll ever want him Forever shouldn't exist Lives like downed trees with no one to hear them.