Time is ours
The earth spins on hours
The revolution runs on days
Around the sun in it's ways
But how did it come
That we may become
To blame our own creation
For our broken recreation?
What we have become
Always asking for that second shot of rum
Either wanting more
Or being useless on the floor
Either crying to wait
Or never leaving a blank slate
Either waiting to break
Or wanting more time to flake
Out across the deep
Your truth begins to seep
Your fragile paint is leaking
Off of your face it's seeping
You truth's starting to spill
Against you mental will
Oh, what you and the world you give for more or less time
Despite the truth in my rhyme
A/N: This is 12 couplets which is 6 pairs of rhyming lines or rhyme pattern a,a,b,b. Me and a friend decided to do a challenge where we would pick a topic and write 12 couplets to it and whoever finished first won. We picked time. I won. :)
YOU ARE READING
The Weeping Woods
PoetryAgony in the form of stanzas, words in the form of little silent cries. I made the cover but I don't own any of the pictures. !There's also quite a bit of explicit language!
