• Ticking,
    ticking
    time.
    Keep on passing
    by.
    Hours turn to minutes,
    and seconds to days.
    Weeks pass in moments,
    but we wither away.
    A month
    can feel like
    a week,
    while a week
    can feel like
    a year.
    Empty hours
    can feel so bleak
    next to fleeting moments
    so dear.
    And as we crawl
    towards the end
    we smile, we laugh, and we cry.
    We hold tight to everything;
    our foes and our friends
    'til time ticks to the day that we die.