I wish I knew what time was,
Because you wasted so much of mine,
I wished to replace pieces of it,
With other parts.
Is it a constant thing?
Do I move past time?
Or does time move through my body?
I can always rewind myself.
Hours and days lost in my past,
My body is the echoes of those years.
What is time?
I once promised you forever,
Yet often, completing today feels too much,
And having only yesterday is frightfully too little.
It\'s like sand between my fingers,
And white shading itself into my hair.
What is time?
We never seem to have much of it.