3:17 am

I used to have it all figured out.

Schedules were organized chaos.

The beloved clock in the corner of my room,

was my gauge.

Told me when I was late, on time.

I was used to this system,

I listened to the clock.

Always.

Never failing to meet my deadlines.

I did what it told me to do.

I soared above the endless guidelines and instructions.

I listened to the clock.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

I listened too much. For too long.

It became tiring.

Overwhelming.

Exhausting.

One day, the clock stopped working.

Its hands still.

Reading 3:17 am.

And that is when, after so much time and effort

put into being constantly productive,

I started to feel weightless.

The burden of time carefully lifted off my shoulders.

I was no longer the bold and confident sky,

Instead, I was more like a hushed lake, 

flowing with gravity's pull rather than my own will.

I merely reflected the vibrant sky,

as it was the one to make all the decisions.

The one with the upper hand.

And, as I fell deeper into the water,

I realized that the world was only 

darker and colder down there.

And then, physically and mentally constricted,

I could no longer spread my wings.

I begun to miss my clock, deeply.

The one still stuck at 3:17 am

It was the one thing that kept me busy, on track.

I longed for the chaotic organization.

I wanted my lost feeling of belonging back.

But, this time, I knew I'd hold it close.

Never let it break, as my clock did.

I hoped I could become the sky again,

but first I needed to swim up to the surface

of this lake, 

and relearn 

how to fly.