Life Through Poetry

I Gave My Time

I have been left time and again

With nothing.

The overwhelming feeling

Of nothing.

The idea that this is nothing,

That my words are nothing,

That my ideas are nothing,

That I mean nothing.

Time and again,

I have been placed in a box,

Lid closed,

No escape.

In that box, I have transformed into countless objects.

That's amazing, right?

I mean, how can I be all these things?

I'm just one girl.

How can I be a welcome mat?

There for Time whenever he needs,

Used by Time when he feels it would be advantageous,

Forgotten by Time otherwise.

Left outside,

In the cold, dark, hot,

All of the time,

Not a care given.

But then how can I transform into a pocket watch?

Ironically, there for Time when he forgets,

A mere reminder, although not for what he needs to do,

But a reminder of what it's like to have a second hand.

But as soon as I start ticking on my own,

Time turns back the clock,

As if I didn't even exist.

As if I still don't.

I have met a lot of different Times.

But they all move the same way.

One minute drags into an hour.

And Time will never stop.

He is never-ending.