The Hours (Poem)

Time passes by like a gus tof wind.
I keep wasting the hours, the minutes, the seconds,
contemplating death.

There are days that I dwell in the deep dark corners
of my demented yet suddle mind.
I feel the hours conusume my soul
like the infinity of the black whole.

Misery comes and goes as it pleases.
The hours that I spend in loneliness
I feel as if I am going mad because
the noise in my brain won't be quiet.

Time presses on my mind like the hammer going
against the nail on the board.

There are hours where I want to get a bite out of life
but the fear comes closer and closer.

I want to be at peace with the world.
I want to be happy every hour of my waking life
The minutes, the seconds, the hours are fading but I'm afraid to live and afraid to die.