By Pen Stewart
The night is still young
As I sit, I wonder
Does it ever stop
The chaotic whirlwind of an overthinker’s mind
As the hours pass I look for anything to distract myself
From the clock on my wall
The ticking,
A constant reminder of all the seconds lost
All the days, weeks
Filled with nothing
All the years spent yearning to grow older
When we do all we wish for is our youth
But alas,
Time is merciless as the blade of a killer
So as I sit, I will remind myself
The night is still young,
And I am too