Days are double their past length,
The road trip’s incomplete.
The hourglass has a leak,
My memory is weak,
The mind is losing strength,
And way back then is merely
In rearview mirrors, reflections bleak.
I reckon that I should probably have been studying instead of writing this, but days are long and I just need a break... One last test to go....
I decided to write a poem, but it's strange that you always return to the same dark place, that you sort of think you feel was done with but know isn't, quite, not all the time. There's just places you can save yourself the visit to, or have to to keep on going.
(Oh, and the poem-- maybe not my best-- actually looks like a sandclock when you centre it, i thought that was cool) (although tacky).
Update: I centred it anyway.