It's hard to believe how things change
as fast as they do,
and how there aren't enough bricks
in the world to build a life with.
Or how rhetoric plays
like a cynical circle,
looping always reminding me of when
history repeated itself again.
Time seems to be rhetorical,
with hands constantly
going round and round.
So we call it precious,
then have the nerve to tell others
they're wasting our own.
Even though it's their time too.
It has us wondering when ours runs out,
it keeps us constantly questioning,
does it ever end?