I yawn,
I ache.
For some time is delicate-
Yet for me time gets wasted easily.
Rest sounds like paradise
It sounds like a symphony
But the task at hand is to wait.
Wait for the future to take its course.
I’m awoken from my slumber,
By the blaring alarms in my mind.
Before the sun is awake with the clouds,
I lay awake at night.
Until my eyelids are heavy,
Unable to keep them wide open.
Without you,
I sit awake.
Tiresome, with my aching bones.
Time is delicate and so am I.
So why am I stretched out like a rubber-band?
If I\'m so delicate.
Would they stretch me-
Until I snap?
Or would they transfer my soul-
to another rubber-band,
And restart the cycle?