Time

I clearly have too much time on my hands...

Time,

It is the most miserable constant we have in life,

When we need more of it, it’s never there,

When we want less, it stands still,

Ticking away, never really changing,

But effectively, slowly ending us all,

There is nothing that we can do,

Yet we wish otherwise so intently,

When we are young we want to be older,

So we are allowed to do more,

When we are old we want to be younger,

So we can allow ourselves to do more,

Writing this took time, not much as I’m sure you can tell,

But every moment, wasted?

Or did it bring me one step closer to understanding and accepting,

When the, time, is close what can you do?

There is no point in starting anything new,

And it would seem a waste to sit and do nothing,

What point does time hold to you?

We travel through the world so blissfully,

Hopeful that we keep our time successfully,

But what does all that show?

That we can't appreciate an activity itself but the time it consumes?

It should be a crime,

But what does it matter,

When one day, there will be,

No time.

Author's Note

Please feel free to take the "time" to leave a review or a comment, or maybe its not worth it, maybe reading this part of the description is just an evil time-waster left here by me to consume even more of your time, if you have got this far and are still reading then perhaps the trap has worked! :)

Reviews

[elenaluisa]

Fantastic poem about the human understanding of time. A really in depth exploration of the meaning and use of time. My favourite part it the ending. Great poem :)

[Dan Burrows]

Thank you very much. :D