The Bandit
An appointment, a class, an assignmentto finish,
a bandit comes by and the moment
is diminished.
I've felt him stealing away pieces
of my life, bit by bit,
piece by piece.
Sometimes he seems an evil, little culprit
as he watches me endure
tough, sad moments,
as they drag slowly by.
He becomes a very generous fellow,
when things are going wrong/
He becomes a giver of sorts,
a giver of himself.
It seems that he enjoys watching me
feel all my grief, in slow motion.
When I was younger I didn't realize
how very precious he was.
I took advantage of him,
not realizing what I was doing.
He has scattered me
in many different directions.
He is a chaos-maker,
everything seems harried.
He is a thief, a bandit of sorts,
he piles me up with many tasks
and never gives enough of himself,
so I may complete even one of them.
I've tried to control him,
even comtain him.
But he is uncontrolled, undefined,
and undeniably selfish.
He is a giver and a taker, always giving
at the wrong times,
when I need for him to make himself scarce,
and taking when I need him the most.
And even now, while writing these thoughts,
I'm running out of words and TIME.
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