We know not where lies our destiny,
Who or what are we meant to be,
Mixed emotions pervade each sentinel life,
As dark storm clouds signal pain and strife.
Existence. One tries not to stop and muse,
For if one does, the time you lose
Worrying about what the future may hold,
And before you know it you're growing too old.
Looking over your shoulder and 'round each bend,
You're pursued by this stranger till the bitter end,
He's a solitary being that follows us all,
No one knows what will happen when your name he does call.
He's a healer of sorts and can mend broken hearts,
He can age and disable your organs and parts,
He can mould you and change you, make you bitter an cold,
He alters your attitudes and opinions I'm told.
Whilst doing all this he follows you hither,
You run and avoid him but soon you will dither,
He'll catch up when you're feeling way past your prime,
For he is that miser, that trickster... he's Time!
If you enjoyed this poem, please consider giving it a like or dropping me a line in the comments section below. Many thanks, M.R.W
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The Assorted Drivel of a Student
PoetryA collection of poems written whilst studying, covering the highs and lows of education and growing up whether that be the stresses and strains put upon friendships; the growing experiences with love; the draining pressure put upon students or the g...
