Someone named future

In the recesses of my mind, where confliction dwells,

My fears rise with an unsettling swell,

As the clock quickens its relentless pace,

A rhythm I struggle to embrace.

Each passing year, a stark reminder,

Of how I loathe the relentless march of time,

Where does it all dissolve?

My youth dims like fruit left too long,

Once vibrant and fresh, will then be waning and wrong,

Its once-bright promise turns soft and gray,

An echo of my youth slipping away.

Will my dreams vanish into the void?

Will I lose the essence of who I am?

The mirror reflects a face that’s mine,

Yet time will inscribe its marks, line by line,

My bones will grow brittle, my skin will begin to sag.

Responsibilities mount with an ominous weight,

Burdening me with fears I can’t yet anticipate,

The flames of passion flicker and drown

As the present yields to memories now, will then mere shadows

I dread the passage of time,
For it is beyond my grasp,
Constantly resisting its flow, never embracing its course.
I despise the future, covered in uncertainty,
A mysterious entity that holds the knowledge my past 

Each fleeting moment of the present it  knows,

Every thought, every word, intimately understood.

I resent it

-Em