Poetry

The Sink Hole.

Please forgive me for all the time I have wasted.
The sands of time wash away all these fingerprints.
That I don't wish to return to these deserts.
Deserting these times in my life.
Wasn't particularly about escaping but finding my way.
Face down in the sand I hear a echo.
"She's doing it again."
They warn me of sinking.
If I were to be honest though I've never found my place.
The air is hot and my heart has been crisped from the heat.
I find water every once in awhile but am never excited.
Either there isn't enough or it's polluted.
I wonder how polluted water could even get out here but then I remember this place is full of many funny things.
I found a man sitting on a rock praying.
It was not my place to interrupt so I waited and observed.
I asked if he was lost but he said he was just visiting.
Said he carried pieces of the desert that he wishes to return.
I couldn't leave if I wanted to.
I searched for my soul and I found it but I picked it up only for it to turn to sand all over again.
I didn't even move I just froze.
The things that I know are just sand.
So is these feelings and everything that makes me who I am.
I shed a tear expecting the next thing to collapse into sand is my body.
I gave up, I knew the only choice I had was to sink; acceptance.
I opened my eyes to find myself at home with sand in my ears.
Time had just ran out for me.
These hourglasses were just a symbol of waiting for time to wash it away.
I shattered them.
The sands of time will never be short but the individual is always limited.
I hand a clock to all the ones I love and remind them we still have time.
I visited the desert to return my last gift.
I dumped the ocean right into its pit.
Just enough time to feel alive sinking into the infinity of the sea of my memories.
It was always enough.