It gets hard to breathe sometimes,
I sit and I let in oxygen just like the rest of the population.
But, in my mind, I'm in the water running out of time.
Tick, tick, tick.
It always comes back to running out of time, when you run out of time, you run out of breath, when you run out of time in the end, you die.
It all leads to time,
time is our best friend and our worst enemy.
Time is the ticking of the clock when your
head is every where but there,
time is the wrinkles that will appear on your face,
time is what people remember on fondly when they are young enough to still love it.
Time is when you realize you wasted it, and this is your last and only life on this Earth.
Time is death, birth, and a stand still. Time is like a friend that you once knew, who would hold your hand, but then time and you. Well, let's just say, time holds a grudge for a very long time.
YOU ARE READING
The Trees Talk
PoetryThe trees talk, they know what goes through your mind. The trees, they scream. +previously Perfection and Deception+
