Life always so mysterious
Time leaves me so delirious.
And the truth is as I type, there is just too much left to write
I am filled with so much fright, at the thought of life not done right
Could I possibly achieve? What has life hidden up its sleeve?
A job nay a dream, at the thought my future self does scream.
He begs me do it right, and for him I must alight
all my passion and my desire, that I put forth to grant my hire.
Blood sweat and tears that I do offer,
no less will he accept to fill our coffer.
But in truth I do much fear,
what seems to draw ever near.
A time to choose is all that's left.
What I have written in this text
My hopes, my dreams and my desire.
I ask my future self from what did I retire?