Is it too late or early?

Is it too late my luv?

to write...

to write all that I lived for

27

the count never stops

am I late for the only thing

that was supposed to be me?

A new life,

with all its new ways

beckons.

Yet I stay 

the very same way.

Still & silent.

The empty road

leads back to my house

just the way the other crowded one.

Is it a game?

I play to pass my time?

or is it nothing at all?

No longer 

I pretend

to be happy

and young.

I wish 

I live 

and love

till I die.