I wasted all that time wishing for tomorrow.
Never stopping,
Never thinking,
Always pushing the gears of the clock forward.

And now time has stopped.

Memories are just flimsy pages in an old book
"What could have been" is jaut graffiti on the wall.
Thoughts are spinning,
I am falling down the stairs
Into the basement of my mind.
I dig through my desk drawers,
Yet I know I will never find a memory that hasn't been,
Like you can't read a story if it never existed.
I could have written that story.
I could have,
But now it's only ink spilled on paper.
It's making a mess.
A mess I'm trying to erase from my thoughts,
But no matter how many times I put them through the
Rinse Cycle,
The stains won't come out.
Stains of remorse don't come out.

If only I had more time,
But I don't.
Because the clock gears are moving,
And I'm stuck.