The Cold

Decisions I make, Impulsive and cold

I sit and I rust, I rot and I mold

Life’s moving so quickly, my conscious on hold

I know nothing but truth, But the truth’s gotten old

With time it gets better, Or so I’ve been told

How could they say this? How yet be so bold?

How does one believe this? Why so easily sold?

Why believe it so fast, Why so easily fold?

Yet I sit and I hope, I hope to behold

The time that is promised, When time turns back gold

I hope and I wait, Having long been enrolled

But still time does no wonders, it seems to withhold

I want to be new, Maybe time will remold

Is time but a lie? Is time just extolled?

Is it not meant for me? That great fortune foretold?

Is that which I seek, Something which can’t be controlled?

Could it even be true? I remain still unsold

I’m reminded by friends, I’ve been reassured and cajoled

To just keep on waiting, But still I wait in the cold