TIME
Time kills at birth
Haunting the beholder like a curse
Choking and grabbing and Stretching and shouting
Tearing the meaning out of your hands
Slowing down with every beat
Ticking and tocking with the summer heat
The little hand will come eventually
Like a star orbiting the sun
Death like a birthday
Waiting and waiting until its your last one
It kills in winter
Spring and summer never come
The big hand might come
Fast like a pen on paper
When days become numbers
The countdown feels bigger
But when time does its thing
Every second becomes thicker
Time is like leather
The feeling getting better after every tic
