The Hourglass of the Past

As my mind sits here, meandering,

my attention was focused

on the dripping sand

of the hourglass of the past

 

Every individual speck,

every small memory

gradually collected at the bottom

stacks of the good and the bad

 

A needle in a haystack,

I managed to pick out the first speck

my first month into 2016

so naive, so optimisitic, so hopeful

 

The tan dots began to drip faster now

as terrible events happen one after the other

the death of my favorite stars, the longated wars,

disconnection of the nation

 

It was as if the world was falling apart

As if nothing was going to turn out right

I could no longer believe in a good future

No longer be naive, optimistic, or hopeful

 

The last speck plops

perfectly on top of the pile

A changed girl is seen

so paranoid, so realistic, so dreadful

 

Fingers trembled as they push away this hourglass

and the next one slides up to vision

the sand began to drip again and then do I realize

there is still hope for the world

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My country
Our world

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