Years of my life I’ve spent spending my time
Waiting for something I can’t quite define.
A big silver clock ticks on top of my head.
The more the time passes I miss what it’s said.
My glasses are thicker; my waistline is too.
The days looking forward are fewer than few.
Just out of reach is the answer I want.
Changing and morphing, the words are a taunt.
I watch others pass me, getting there first.
They started before me, with placement that’s worse.
Where am I going? What purpose is this?
What obstacles are there for me yet to miss?
Life can be hard, but the ending is certain.
When all’s said and done, how much waiting is worth it?