Chelsea Crisman

Rookie - 0 Points (1994 / Oklahoma)

Time - Poem by Chelsea Crisman

It's five thirty in the morn.
My thoughts filled with scorn.
I could just weep,
From denying myself any sleep.
Time is leaving me,
Five thirty-three, it can't be.
A week has gone by.
A week that seemed to fly.
My wrists drip red,
Cleansing my heart of hatred.
Emotions are fleeing.
This soul is screaming.
I'm broken to the core,
For my life holds no savior.

Now it's nearly six.
The time to 'pick up sticks'.
This life is in a lull.
I can't sleep it's so dull.
Blue blanket, blue pen, blue pants.
My mind wanders as if in a trance.
Brown door, brown chair, brown wall.
What happened to the bright colors of fall?
Is it winter already?
NO! It can't be!
It was just September!
When did it become the end of December?
Time has left me too far behind.
I fear this life is no longer mine.

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Comments about Time by Chelsea Crisman

  • (12/27/2011 1:31:00 PM)

    Its true, sometimes we feel we have lived a full life and like the last ray of dusk no more left, but like the dawn bringing chaste light, life has more to offer, may be you to express the gloom of life stealing winter or the bright eyes of life in spring; for you or for some one, time has enough time.good write. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 27, 2011

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