left undone

a million peices of my heart
in all the things I tend to start, but never finish
and every thing that's left undone
is just a sign I'm on the run, lest I deminish

and if I stop to take a breath
and contemplate my hour of death, I'd have to wonder
what then would be my last request
to sit with winners I detest, or rather one more chance to be a blunder?

Just like that worm
who never made the hook
I slept too late
and never read the book
the early bird
was out cold when I came
he knew the plays
but snoozed before the game.

I dabble in the partial arts
in tasting wines and shopping carts with shaky wheels
and all the prizes never won
for half baked pies, and smiling eyes and flaky deals.

time will tell if this get's done
though time is never on the run, nor one for waiting
no matter what you do or choose
in what you keep or what you lose, that sunset's fading~

Like that worm
who never made the hook
I sleep too late
and never read the book
the early bird
was out cold when I came
he knew the plays
but snoozed before the game.