These Seconds

The clock
Each hand making another round
Counting down each hour we waste
Metronome
A hollow attempt to keep pace with
The minutes we can never replace

They say
Our time is borrowed
But to whom do we owe?
The keeper
Of an arbitrary construct, social by design
Pays no mind to how we spend it

These seconds
The ones we take for granted until they have passed
Are gifts until they are weapons
Once taken
We can not reimburse another
For the time we have stolen

Our days
Though precisely measured, over and over again
We lose track and not a single cost can we retract
How foolish
We are to give permission to anyone else
To carelessly mishandle our limited supply
Of moments

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Musician & writer in LOKELLA. Pen-yielding page scratcher.

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Jennifer Lyn Bartlett

Jennifer Lyn Bartlett

Musician & writer in LOKELLA. Pen-yielding page scratcher.

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