what is this...
passing of time,
sand sifting through my hand,
a fleeting memory
which lets you go.
I get lost in the maze
of happy thoughts and
I get lost in the way they rot
neglecting the hurt that grows
time still goes on.
Clocks on the wall
are all messengers
reminding us that he won't care
to pause or plunder
every now becomes a has been
strange are its ways
stranger are the days
I barely survive the wonder
and journey in the "nick of time".
Image Courtesy: http://picturepost.files.wordpress.com/2007/09/time.jpg
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