By Tatiana Suarez-Pico
I don't know what to write about
I've been working nine days straight
Living half the dream fully, all in what a day may spout
My mind is full of thoughts and walls feels like a lot of weight
Iron lids doing a lenghthy to do list
trying to keep up with the rest and not let anyone down
taking care of words that drip like slow rain from awnings
through the mist
And stretching dollars with a frown
I haven't had a break or the break
But I can pretend this is preparation for the event
Living life, is that what they call it? I'm not sure I'm doing it great
Just running as fast as I can attemping not to miss a beat,
I suppose that's what they meant
when they said that I gotta keep going, no time to relay
only exchange looks with eyes that hook onto intentions,
theirs and mine, and link like chains with zero delay
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