How Is It

A poem I wrote in the morning, when I was thinking about how the days seemed to drag on forever, but the week went by in an instant.

How is it

That weeks go by so fast,

But the days drag on forever?

How is it

That I can stare for hours

And not know what I'm looking at?

How is it

That I always have time for homework,

But I hardly have time to play?

How is it

That every one of us was a kid,

But some of us never acted like it?

Why is it

That we have to grow up so fast?

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed