Irony

March 5, 2013

In the beginning, time can’t go by fast enough

We grow up, shooting for the stars, or so we say

To be free

We want to be big and bad and then

Time goes and stays away

While working toward the dream, or so we say

To be free

The house we pay the mortgage on

That we’re never home to enjoy

Weekend days, elixirs of love and loss in the air

But we’re too hurried to notice

So we yearn for vacation from reality

Only to have it bite us in the butt when we return

We want to hit the lottery, or so we say

To be free

I am here, duped by my own body’s wrath

My time is free, or so I say

I can go at my own pace

Feel the cool rain through my thin sweater

Watch the sunshine poke through the clouds

But this is not living the dream