“Snapshot of My Thoughts”

I want to write.


I have the time.


Don’t stop now.


Not this time.


It’s getting harder.


Been a long time.


I should do more.


I don’t have time.


I need to stop.


Unlike the time.


Just take a breath.


There’s no time.


I’m running out, around, and down.


I’m running out of time.


Eighteen years, will it ever get better?


Standing here, is it love or a letter?


I want to write, and I want to get better,


Now, will someone show me 

how to take time as it comes exactly?


Learn to adapt and react and respond to the multitudinous calamity and ever-changing sanity 

that is just my own reality, 

or is it all a fantasy?


Is this act of typing and writing 

and coming up with words and phrases 

another way of turning all the blank pages 

so that I can say that I’ve done something right?


What—wait—god!! I’m running out of time..