The way time passes is very brute,

happiness not perpetual, all follow the same route,

an infinite circle goes round and round,

while each life perishes with each ticking sound.

When all is gone, mere remnants and lies,

time watches with its invasive eyes,

time is prudent but silently chooses,

a vicim and with each second he loses,

a silent killer, or fortuitous luck,

a clock is a peril as a life it can chuck,

what once was a waif, naive and sweet,

grew up a purveyor, who lives a cheat

and a ruthless tyrant, an impervious queen,

became a merchant, impoverished, she is seen,

and as this callous clock refuses to sympathise,

it gives retribution, it severs close ties,

it lingers in the corner, or its a tangible taste,

it can cause bliss, or make you haste,

to a rudimentary matter, it can cause an upheaval,

who knew that the mere notion of time was so lethal?