Life as a Poet Knows It
Life as a Poet Knows It

The Everything-Doer

Running, trying...

The Everything-Doer

I am so, so young.

And I am always, always running.

My movements are inconstant and my mind is in too many places at once to count.

It feels as though I’m nearing a climax, exploding, time crunch is on,And I’m going to be one long leap too late, one reach away from the peakWhen it hits, too strong.

So, so young, and yet treading like I carry a burden; owing to create something wonderful out of this worldAnd for this world

But between feeling too old and looking too young

There is never enough time.

The fleeing thoughts. My childhood didn’t seep through my fingers.It crashed onto the pavement when I stepped off of the sand and wavered too much

And it slipped off of my shoulders.

Now, time doesn’t fly anymore. It chases my nightmares instead; waking up is the hardest part sometimes. Hours drag on and on and on until another 6 months have passed and you’re still writing the same list of things to achieve

Over and over

The seasons chase one another around the equatorLike a pup chasing its tail, so, so, young.

Stumbling blindly, floating,

Doubting whether a step forward is maybe two steps back

Because there is no compass, no one path, and one leap closer to the tip of the mountain is one leap further from the depths of the oceanAnd for some reason, we can’t have both.


Between being too old, And feeling too young, For some reason, it still feels like I can’t have both.

And maybe

I was meant to be

Somewhere else, someone else

And I’m wasting my time.

No, I’m biding my time,

But maybe I’m biding the wrong time, in the wrong place, waiting for something that was never meant to be mine.

Always running, doing, trying,

Running. I don't know where I'm going, but maybe I'll get there faster. Doing, even though I'm never quite sure why, or how. Trying to fill all the space in my lungs, all the gaps in my mind, because maybe I will be better if I manage to hold the world in my hands.

Too bad that I know that I can't. And it feels like betrayal.

We are all so, so young.

And always, always, running, trying,


social commentary
Mariia Bashmakova
Mariia Bashmakova
Read next: Poem: New Life
Mariia Bashmakova

Hello! I write words and thoughts and other things.

See all posts by Mariia Bashmakova