Making Me

Time

ME:

Dear Time,

           Where did you go?,

I was here sitting on this chair, waiting for the sign of your unwillingness to let hands move in backwards motion. To travel, to move, to see.  If i was only this much wiser, in a past attempts to make the wrongs of social hypocrisy seem like, how when your baby drops her spoon and u bend over and get it, problem solved rite.   We linger on your presents like it was our dying wish, for you to swing your magnificent hand over us and make the pain travel through you and out of us like some goddamn magic trick.  Where was time that takes all wounds, takes all pain, takes premature love and turn it into undying love.  Where is the time that waited for no sec. to take what was his to begin with, who would of stopped time to fix the broken, the left behind, the heart that has no more blood to push out to make the soul feel life, and some greater purpose, other then i wake up, feel like death, i work, and then sleep and yet feel like death.  

       Your slow moving hands and wasteful steps have damned us all, To travel in unknown territory and unforeseen lands of pain and warped views.  So time take your hands and move so ever slow in your transcend to the land of wasted space and preoccupied vessels of broken. Feet that have left all desire to move the body so willingly attached to it.  Move not in the prevailing winds of sand, but the down pour of the blinding rain.  Let your hands move so diligently, quickly over the left behinds and forgotten mends of grains, that had slipped through the hour of times fingers.

      Why,......... why did you leave me here, when you so swiftly let her go, why must i be the bearer of the hurt and memories of life's gestures, why did you move so far from me and missed seeing the pain i see.  Was it to much, was it to great of a mistake of yours, was the hand that you played in this game of what is me.  Did you three only let me see what was great to set forth your plan of wrongfully set i do's and i love you's.  

     Time where have you gone, I need you, I need what people say about you.  This, what you have created in the freedom of space, this what is your part, and needs to be placed. 

      Sitting in this seat of black coils and corrupted rumbles of words from deeply set in mind, Mr. Time,  Have all but stopped to try, Has the pain and suffering in this world gotten to the god of future pasts. 

      You let me down,  You have let me transcend into the far dark presents, You forgot to help through the griff of undying peace.

       Eyes use to be great views of life's quest, and topical consumption.

Time: .....??????????????