Time, the flippant jokester
Days slip under my feet
So quick
Too quick
They flee
Was it me who caused offense?
What threat did I administer,
To make you run from me so?
You sad, sour grape.
I’m not that frightening
(Much to my dismay)
Unless you’ve seen my temper…
I suppose I have raged at you
But only because you run
And so the serpent eats its tail
Peaky, tutting chicken.
For the love of anything holy
Get back here!
I cannot exist
I cannot accomplish
Anxiety for missed days
Due to exhaustion
All the while running
Trying to keep pace with you
Stand your ground
Have some sterner stuff
Common whelp.
Stand your ground and face me
Coward.