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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.