Sacred

I used to feel safe,

oblivious to the mess I left in my wake.

Now I try to give more than I take.

But there’s more at stake

than the nights I spent awake.

It turns out I’ve got a selfish streak,

and I repeat the same mistakes.

Seconds, hours, minutes, days.

I feel it slip, slipping away.

Did I mention that I’m fucking scared?

I can feel the decay,

but I can’t say it caught me unawares.

New bruises, new pills.

Fate will not fight fair;

the clock will not stand still.

“Ask me why & I’ll spit in your eye.”

We’re all still ill.

Today I felt the time slipping away.