So. This is my first poem in more than a year, so...stab it. And make sure you do a thorough job of eet.
Time, Time, Time
Time is deceptive,
Unmanageably repressing,
It stirs its way through your veins,
Slowly murdering your body
With every conceivable second.
There is a sort of literature,
Where it presumes to call itself
A god, Chronos the Father
When it’s really only your mother
Nagging at you till you’re dead.
It runs fast when you’re slow
And vice versa, it defies
You when you shake your fist at it,
Leaving you hairless and toothless--
In the end, you’re six feet under.
He takes away youth after a fashion
Of being merciful, a liar’s promise.
Never trust Time, never bow to it
For that is really what it wants,
A faithless semblance of slavery.
Nay, rather, do as I tell you,
Take a baton--not a scepter,
For it makes one greedy--
And rule over Time with
The iron hand of a tyrant.
