Do you ever think about the passage of time

And despise it?

Do you ever think about the days going by,

The months along with them,

And how no day will never be the same,

How you had one chance to live each second of each unique, shortlisting day,

And despise yourself for living it that way?

Or do you despise time,

For forcing you to choose,

For making you feel small,

And for ruining any chance at all

To live it any other way?

She despises herself and time:

Time for pushing her into a corner,

For setting up walls

Around a life that guilts her for living fearfully,

And herself for not breaking those walls down,

And for living in the corner fearfully.