Refining Time
Pressured under time
In a concrete box I feel confined
As the walls cave in around
It’s me they’re trying to refine
There’s so much to do
Yet not time to fulfill
The hands on the clock are moving too fast
Motion sickness making me ill
I fee like the alarm will go off
And out of time I will be
If I don’t hurry to plan my future
What will happen to me?
poem by Twisted Strange
Added by Poetry Lover
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