The Hours Poem by Anya Garcia

Are the hours not long enough? The day doesn't end as if
it would never cease
My mind can't stop thinking as if it were a slow disease.
Infected by the memories of what was, what is, what could've been
My voice I no longer can hear, uncertainty has settled in.
Where do I go from here?
Where are we, have our souls met before,
are we lost in a life that
is not ours?
I am torn.
Seeking answers and finding only questions,
so full of insecurity I feel I walk alone in my mere existence.
I look to the sun for clarity but, am blinded by light
I run to the moon to hide from myself as my thoughts
scatter into the night.

(06/26/2006)