Poem: Time Clock

I wish I could go back to when everything was simple.

The people were cool, and my worries were small.

I had dreams and I had plans.

This was the time to be alive.

At least, that is what I used think.

Not anymore, all I think about is the pain and wanting out.

Younger me was confused, but the older me is no better.

I can never go back, and I learn to stop trying.

What happen then was not thriving, it was surviving.

It made me who I am today, but the no luck kept pushing the goal post further away.

Now everything is getting closer, and I am afraid to miss.

Will I take this shot, or let it pass me by? Time is running out, and I do not think I will beat the shot clock

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