Doctor Who One shots

Time is Cruel

A/N-So this isn't really a story or anything; just a description and stuff. I'm not really sure if it's any good, so I'm going to publish it and see how many votes it gets to determine if I should write something like this again. It's short; like most of the things I've been writing; so enjoy!

Time is cruel. It stops for no one. It never slows; not for anyone or anything. No matter what crisis or catastrophe, Time keeps right on going, ignoring the realm outside of its bubble. Time is a mystery wrapped and tucked away in its own self-made safe haven; hiding from the unknown and the change. Time is selfish too. It takes and it never stops taking; stealing away days and memories of our lives bit by bit, till nothing is left of us except an empty shell. Time sits high above on its mighty throne, laughing at our effort and struggles as it takes away the joys we have so tirelessly toiled for. Time is all those things; cruel, selfish and haughty, but most of all, Time is alone. It stands alone as it watches civilizations rise with the sun, only to be obliterated along with the sunset. Time watches it all; all the struggles and triumphs of our lives. Time can watch; but it can never touch; it can never interfere or experience the joys and sorrows alongside us. Time can reach out, but we are never quite within its grasp. The only thing Time knows how to do is take. Sometimes, if Time tries long enough, it can reach through the bars of its prison and snatch something away, only to have it disintegrate in its hand immediately. Everything that Time touches eventually wears away and everything that Time sees fades into oblivion in the blink of an eye. As it has watched, Time has grown weary, no longer content to watch quietly from its haunting domain. Time has tried again and again to reach the beautiful worlds below, only to fail with each attempt. Time has grown restless, trapped in its fiery cage, unable to lead a life that it wishes to lead; a life like ours. Pacing back and forth, trapped within its own reality; its own futile existence that it has created for itself. Now, Time grows tired, bitter with its losses and failures; unable to attain the one thing that everyone else seems to be able to so easily grasp. So Time is cruel. Time is selfish and Time is a thief.  Time brushes away the tears it wishes to rain down upon the universe, knowing they will never be seen. Instead, Time takes what it can, savoring the feeling of holding something of its own before it fades away to dust. In the end, Time is alone. Time is a single being that is never heard; its own voice haven been taken at its dawn. So Time sits, watching us all, with the longing it has held for the longest of times. Solitary and unassisted in its plight, Time counts the days until it is to be set free from this nightmare. It longs to free of the disease that has plagued it for so long. Time now waits, as must we all, for its time to set and burn out like a flickering bulb.