Churning Thoughts

It’s been quite a while since I’ve written a rhyme,
If for no other reason than I haven’t the time,
Or if it’s not that, then perhaps it’s because,
My mind has been feeling like a row of locked doors.
In either case, I’m typing one now,
Procrastination has led me to (well I didn’t say it would all rhyme).

“University’s good, I’m doing quite well,
But somehow my life is not feeling so swell,
Where am I going, what’s my direction,”
said a young man named Timothy Fecktion.
“It’s not that I’m feeling like nothing is right,
More that life thinking just gives me a fright.
I’ll only be here on this earth for a sec,
Before my life force goes out with a click (Ed: He’s from New Zealand, and happened to pronounce this word with an accent, hence ‘clek’).
What can I do in this short little while,
Between now and death, except try and smile?
Of course that’s most worthy, to love and to care,
For family and friends who live everywhere,
To strive to leave the world in a much better state,
Yes, yes I know, that’d be great.
But when I’m alone and there’s nobody there,
Nobody to help, nobody to care,
That’s what gives me the greatest scare.”

But then Timothy smiled, and said to himself,
“I know what I’ll do, I’ll surround myself,
With friends and family close and near,
All of the people I hold to be dear.”
And so Tim went forth and collected his friends,
As well as his relatives, and friends called ‘pretends’,
He gathered them all in his small living room,
And locked them in there, there in the gloom.
Now that he had them he’d never be lonely,
Now with that sorted, he was all good – but only…
His family and friends didn’t like being trapped,
They started to yell, and they shouted and yapped.
They weren’t the ones who were going insane,
They were quite cross at Tim’s new little game.

And so Tim gave a sigh, and let them all go,
They ran from his house, as he watched through the window.
It was raining outside, and they covered their heads,
As they dashed to and fro across his flower beds,
And so Tim realised, they were gone in the rain,
And all he had was himself, alone once again.

Until somebody came and gave him a hard slap, and said “Wake up to yourself, Tim, you’re an absolute idiot. Stop thinking about life. Of course there’s no point. Just run with it. Of course your whole life won’t be spent having fun times with people. Sometimes you’ll be doing work. Yes, work. Sometimes you’ll be doing assignments. And even if it seems to you like a waste of your time seeing as you could be dead at any moment, you’ll just have to put up with it. Enough of your morbid, morbid, mind. Just shut up and sort yourself out.”

“You’re right,” replied Tim simply.

The End