My days fly by and nothing much gets done,

and all my days bleed into many years;

I used to stroll today I have to run;

on borrowed time I tend to all my cares.

It’s scary how I seem to trot in place,

accountability is drenched in stress;

afraid to look at lines upon my face…

I hate myself down to the way I dress.

For every plan I make I do my best…

to cross my T’s, dot all-important I’s;

no breaks, no fun, I don‘t get any rest…

my enemy is time and how it flies!

My nights are just as fast I do declare…

eyes up, eyes down; the race goes on from there.