Lost-Part 2

How do I

name this feeling

Of avoid

Of escape

From my own self.

Fearing to stand

in front of myself.

Where it is

me against me.

Where the other 

asks the account

of life’s each day !

Of life’s each moment.

And I haven’t a penny

Of any worthy actions

to fill up the wasted

baskets of time.

Life is running

out of time!

These moments 

are evaporating.

Stronger I try to hold 

 faster they slip 

out of my hands

Like the grains

of a hot sand 

 on a summer 

Saharan   afternoon .

6 thoughts on “Lost-Part 2

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