I constantly feel like I'm running out of time,
the fine grains of it slipping through my fingers like sand,
like a drop of rain in the Sahara, I search for some relief,
some feeling of completion or satisfaction.
but instead I am met
with deadline after deadline
of work that I love to do
so I toil relentlessly
to hold onto the sand
as the wind blows furiously around me.
this was too poetic for me