Regrets roar like they didn’t have a habit to face
my heart sore from all i could do with such a slow pace
two selfs competing in a never ending race
one with no finish line
i’ll keep trying to get there but there I’m out of time
time?
was it ever really in my favor?
every time i’d think to change things i’d plan to do them later
when i write them down on a paper
that i hope every time i won’t throw away this time
this time
this time
i want to do it this time
my plan so well thought out to prove i’m not the committer of this crime
and as i approach the blood to clean up my evidence
and choose not to turn my murder into a solid decadence
he’s out of sight
I’m out of my mind,
out of time,
and still yet to reach the finish line
© Mariam Samir