The sum of the whole is less than all of its parts–
it fades more with each passing hour, no rhyme
or reason. Maybe it’s the month, or the day,
or just the way that time likes to slip away.
No rest for the weary, nothing finds realization
as time folds in on us; completion calculated
by those whose expectations exceed our abilities.
Reality and insanity occupy the same timeline:
when it comes down to it, it’s all about time.
Time is not our friend. Only so many minutes in the day,
it’s always running away when there’s so much to do.
Everyone rushing to finish their tasks, no wonder
the days disappear, and nothing good lasts.
Another day, another dollar...more likely fifty cents,
after the taxes and bills are digested...
If this life is a test will we pass or fail?
I sit obsessing on the day that’s ahead
second-guessing the challenges yet to come
anticipating it to be the same as yesterday,
locked inside this loop of endless tedium.
© Ginny Brannan 2023
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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.