What's Done in Seconds
You aren’t defined by what you’ve done,
but what makes a “done”?
Is two days ago, “done”?
Is it one setting of the sun?
Is every second in the past?
So I’ll never be defined by mistakes gone?
The mistake of last second doesn’t feel done to me.
It’s too close, I just touched it.
A second ago.
But I want it done. Over.
I wish it to be.
No matter how long the second, this mistake feels like me.
It’s a “do” a “current”
I don’t believe it’s done yet.
It’s a “you referent”
A light blue lined link,
that takes one to two.
Your name to a “do.”
Mistakes not “done.”
Mistakes that are you.
I want to abandon them-
But it was only a second.
What are we, if we cannot count on the definition of seconds?
Something wrong with this poem?
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