I left it too late.

I left it too late.

I have a habit of avoiding problems: pushing them aside, burying them deep down wrapped in locks and chains and hoping that will be enough to keep them away forever. 

But they have a habit of resurfacing, rising from the grave I shoved them into like vengeful zombies, and smacking me in the face.

I left it too late.

I let them fester, aided with the spiteful hand of Time, let them swell and grow until they could be confined no longer. The very chains I wrapped them in are now winding around me, consuming me, binding me so tight I cannot think or move or breathe anymore.

I left it too late.

I should’ve acted while I could, while I still had power in my hands and Time was on my side. 

Instead, I hid. I ignored and evaded, refusing to look the monster in the eye as it grew under my nose, getting bigger and bigger.

Now it has me in its grasp and I cannot do anything. And Time is jeering at me scornfully, laughter echoing as He fades away.

I left it too late. I have no one but myself to blame. There is only one person toward whom I can direct my anger as destruction rains upon the world and my life falls around me in shambles.

Me. Because I left it too late. And now I must face the consequences. 

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