The Death Poems: Collection 2

Time

I work with Death

To bring you in

I do not take your last breath

Nor do I judge your sin

I am the clock that ticks

The sand that falls

Your life I cannot fix

Your death I cannot stall

I am Time

I oversee all

Every good deed and crime

Is recorded now matter how great or small

I see all

But I can't do a thing

I am rather small

And feel as useless as a featherless wing

I am important though

I help things move on

I have no low

And am both dangerous and helpful to some