• Minutes, only hours
    somewhat smaller.
    Ticking along so swiftly
    by. Freedom is just a
    step behind the face of
    a clock, yet no one knows
    and so it shows who lives
    and dies. Our eyes shine
    with lust and burn with
    anger, glow with pride,
    and weep with sadness.
    How sweet it is the sound
    of lying. It lets you know
    how young you are. Many
    years have you seen, wise
    and old, but I am naive.
    How could I not be?
    Just born into this, still
    I move along blissfully, unaware.
    I live.
    I die.
    I know.