My Poor Hours

Any quarter of an hour

Doesn’t delay me anywhere.

I like crowded stations…

When a train runs late or a bus,

I am the only one who doesn’t become angry,

Besides the homeless.

But loneliness…

Loneliness is filled up with rage!

I know the sky is not mine,

In any talking, my name is never mentioned.

-It’s understandable-

Sometimes I used to get lost, sometimes exist;

But now, I am stuck being lost.

Always lost.

In new york city, rain is the only one,

That gives me my share fairly

However, the situation of rain is better than mine:

At least, raindrops have the skyscrapers,

While they are dropping to the earth.

Any quarter of an hour

Doesn’t delay me anywhere.

It’s nothing to me;

Nothing 7:15, 3:15,10:15…

Nothing pm or am!

Ohh, my poor hours…

They always move.