Sometimes, I live one day at a time,
Others, I live the whole week at once,
Other times still, I do not live for time at all.
Some days, I love wherever the writing resides,
A home that many find;
Other days, I live in the cold, hard depths of life,
That no one wants but many are given;
Other days still, I live in my backyard,
Where I can play forever.
Other times still, I feel as if I live for death.
I do not like thinking of death,
It happens impulsively, uncontrollably.
But I know it all leads up to that,
I live to just live.