This tempestuous storm - It burns inside of me!

Im trying to recollect: What set it free?

I see last year's calendar in a cool monochrome,

But I just realized its only this year's palendrome.

The dates unravel into the timeless abyss,

I have no remorse, nothing left to miss.

The past is dull, the present is my blight,

Maybe, if I try, my future I can still rewrite.

I am merely a victim of procrastination,

But now time has run out - Im at the destination.

But, alas, I have arrived here without an agenda,

Lost in this grand terminal, possibly forever.