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Race so Slowly

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Like the rain falling against the window
I am silent in the loudest of ways.
Life drifts on by quickly,
The hours getting shorter every minute.
The routine is always the same
Day in and day out, until I,
In some fit of wisdom, realize
That I even bore myself to tears.
But sometimes the thought of change
It can be scarier than a life
Of pure tedium and endlessness.
Counting the seconds into days
And counting the nights into years.
What am I trying to race so slowly toward?

In a list

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  • Polaja Greeters member
    September 30, 2008

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    I really like the thought of being silent in the loudest of ways you have crafted nice imagery thoughout this poem, and the rawness of the message is nicely contrasted!

    Keep writing

    Polly