For I am already condemned.
My life mapped out,
On each unforgiving page.
And each year that passes
One will crumble to dust.
I long for a second chance,
To look forwards instead of backwards.
As the steady tick tock of time goes by
Still the pendulum with your eraser,
As you still my future.
As you sit motionless at your desk, pen poised,
Spare me a thought,
I like to think that fate is written in pencil.
It gives me something to fight for:
The possibility of a second chance.
For only you can do so,
You are my last chance and
I have been good this year,
If the future is written in pen,
Then tear each page slowly up
And write me again.