Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2018
I feel everything and nothing at once and I can’t tell if that’s good or bad. There’s no facade put in place, my heart is on my sleeve and there’s only one thing to say. In eighteen years of living, death has taught me one thing. Time is precious and fickle. She is a force of uncertainty that which everyone uses for clarity, but dear there is no clarity in the unknown.
At a feeble age of eleven I lost a friend who we thought we’d all grow with. At age sixteen I almost lost my own life. And finally, at age eighteen my family was told my mother may have five years left.
Time is a cruel placebo effect. She waits for no one and whilst one may think the time isn’t now but maybe in the future, you have to realize there may not be a future.
What happens before now doesn’t exist. It does not exist in our reality. It will never exist until it happens but then the present becomes the past. Why wait for something you want?
Why say goodbye to something you don’t want to lose?
Mos
Written by
Mos  Iowa
(Iowa)   
  426
       Marco, Mary Allard, writingsolo, burntmallows, Lu and 1 other
Please log in to view and add comments on poems