№ 3- on time

I am fascinated by change
the way time flows like a leak from a pipe,
regardless of your wants.

it’s like time doesn’t care about what I want.
it’s like it has decided that I should
just
watch
from
the
side-lines

I looked in the mirror last night
and I didn’t even recognize who I was.

it’s like I’ve replaced myself with an entirely different being.
I’m no longer the girl who I took pride in being.
I’m a different person.
and whose fault is it?
time

time is the damned culprit

I’ve let time be my master,
and I,
a slave to it.

And my master’s cruel whip,
it forces me to arch my back
and

obey.

And yet,
as my master,
time heals my bloody, raw wounds.

I am fascinated by change
because it is a reminder of how different
things
once
were.

time,
it is agreed,
is a dimension.

it marks existence in its entirety,
as without time,
we would not be able to function
nor would things
change

I once made time my bitch
by proving to myself
that I was a image of my imagination,
a creation of a suicidal sensation
and that
time
would not
could not
touch me.

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