Not My Time {Poem}

As each minute ticks closer to that final hour

I pray that it will not cause my soul to rot and sour

The bird sings and the alarm weeps

I cannot recall the most recent restful sleep

Times are tough and I pretend not to fret

I tell myself that it’s just not my time yet

The day rises and the night falls

The cacophony in my head is sure to drown out the call

A rugged path of sticks and stones

Or a smooth road that lay atop bones

I hear the siren calling and by God does it sound sweet

For the Devil is bored and needs some fresh meat

But today I will live again to tend a soul most pure

No matter the struggle I must face nor the path I will endure