The hands of the clock ticked as time passed by me. Like the water in the sink slowly being absorbed by the drain. The gurgling sound like a dying animal, or the sound my mind made as another night passed by me with nothing achieved. What was life meant for if not to waste time. Why were we given so much of it. The hands of time blessed us with pyramids of its wealth, yet we waste it like ungrateful children who can't have enough toys yet ruin each one they're given. Is time something that should be shared or taken alone? My time is mine. If I gave it to you, I would be at a loss. In the time I spent with you frolicking through flowered feilds or watching the sun set; I could've made a ground breaking discovery of the meaning of the universe, the potion of imortality or the cure for cancer. So why do you continue to ask me for my time. You say you love me, yet you steal from me every day.
-19/10/2023
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Rise Above (My Writing Book: Poetry, Haiku, Etc)
PoetryA collection of me trying out and practising forms of writing. Including poetry, haiku, anaphora loops, etc. This book is me completely experimenting with different writing styles. I am a complete newbie poet and amateur writer just publishing my wo...
