Time is a manmade creation
That holds power over everyone.
Do I dare keep track of the months and weeks that have past,
Since the last time I have picked up the thorn
and saw the red buds bloom into roses?
Do I dare keep track of the weeks and days that have past
Before the roses whither, fall, and die
Becoming one with my skin and leaving remnants of discolored lines?
Time is the beholder of us all
As it directs our life
Will I ever go a day without keeping track?
YOU ARE READING
The Unexpected
PoetryA collection of poems about my life, my feelings, my thoughts, basically about me. It's the things I don't ever speak of but write down instead. Warning: some poems may trigger you so read at caution A/N: They're not the best since I just write them...
