In the final countdown, pressure is on display,
New Year’s resolutions in a last-minute ballet.
Tick-tock echoes loud, as the year folds its page,
A frantic pursuit, a rat race of futile rage.
Resolutions, like dancers, on a precarious stage,
Each step a struggle, a ticking clock in a cage.
Personified goals, wearing a cloak of disdain,
Mocking achievements, as time starts to wane.
Tickling the ivory of dreams, with sarcasm’s touch,
Ambitions in a rush, a relentless clutch.
Ironic whispers in the corridors of haste,
As the pressure builds, leaving no time to waste.
A feast of irony, served on resolutions’ plate,
Last-minute feats, a precarious fate.
The dance of the desperate, in the eleventh hour,
Chasing illusions, as the clock’s hands devour.
In the circus of time, an acrobatic feat,
Pressure mounts, a drumroll’s deceit.
The irony of chasing what has already flown,
A year’s end approaching, resolutions dethroned.
© Ifedolapo Ogunniyi
2023
Ifedolapo Ogunniyi 