Past, Present, Future, My Friend. Poem by Marie Murdar

The past is the past.
So why isnt it ok to ask?
Finally at last
We all hold fast
to something outlast
only to be harrassed
by something miscast.

The present is now.
We must all bow
Because of how
No one may take a bow
We must all allow
For what is going on now.

The furture is to come.
It can ruin your life as it fallls crumb by crumb
Everything is just so dumb
So i sit and play with my thumb
Because my mood is just so glum
The thoughts of things to come
Just keep me so damn glum.