My burnt toast

This story starts every time you missed a bus to somewhere you can take the next bus and still be two minutes early then you are supposed to be there.
Burnt toast theory

I missed the bus and still have no regrets, if you had seen me a month ago, I probably be panicking at even the thought of failures like this.

As you can probably tell, I was too something, I am now not. Some shadows we fail to recognise after they get to old.
Some faces we fail to recognise, who is staring at me back from this new mirror?

I changed the layout of my room and now my head has new layout too. When they say, clean your room. They were on to something.

I am simply waiting for my next short at the same dream I missed to hold on too.

And if it doesn’t come by, well there is nothing I can hope for then again to thank the, burnt toast.

For dropping me off at the right stop at different time but never a minute late.