Piles of work, my desk is bustling,
while outside the leaves are rustling,
The seasons are mixed up, the world
is different, time has been hurled

right passed me, like I don't exist, at
least for some. I'm shaken in ways that
I did not foresee, I cannot flee, to me,
this is prison. Come and hear the sound

pounding, from underground, wanting
to be found. A daunting feeling, taunting
my decisions, working ahead, time misled

me once again. Can't you go in my stead?
If not my life will go too fast, slow me down,
I want to go but I am not ready to leave town.