Time is always moving.
Ticking away our lives.
Every hour,
Every minute,
Every second.
Slipping through our hands our time is leaving.
Our pasts are becoming longer.
And memories are pilling up,
Being either peaceful beautiful moments,
Or leathal weapons to our minds.
Torturing us with the world is moving on, weather your ready?
Or not?
We worry about tomorrow,
but today is happening.
For tomorrow,
today will be yesterday,
and yesterday will be tuesday.
The clock will continue ticking
But the beating will stop.
YOU ARE READING
Lyrics Of Life~The Book Of Poetry
PoetryWhat is the definition of a Poem? "A piece of writing that partakes of the nature of both speech and song" -Dictionary. "A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. A poem begins in delight and ends in...
