Time is my drug, my addiction.
Tick toc, tick toc, tick toc.
I am running out, I panic!
I steal some from another.
Not knowing how much they have,
But still trying to add to my own lot.
There is never enough.
Always wanting more.
Waste mine, utilize another's.
Yet mine is more valuable?
At least that's what I think.
But really, I don't think.
I am just another thief.
Until it is another that steals mine from me.
I then realize the value of the currency.
If I share it, it cannot be stolen from me.
My investment grows.
As I invest mine in another,
Many begin to invest in me.
For now, it is no longer an addiction.
It is now my conviction.
I have let my hands become,
The hands of time.
Ryan Lee Morris
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hands-of-time-9/
