Seconds ticking on the clock
Heartbeats throbbing, cradles rock,
Truth be told we hold such stock
And fumble under key and lock.
Ingenuity breeds contempt
Of peers who think that they’re exempt
Where they’ve been they shall repent
For none of us is heaven sent.
But yet we wait, we watch the time
Burning away, is it sublime?
At the microwave, the stoplight, the grocery line
Our patience fumes, of course, does mine?
Eager to impress we dress just so
Wanting to climb the ladder by who we know
Making more money we jump to and fro
Through the hoops, until we tie it with a bow.
And make it a present for the ones we love
Breaking their hearts by our absence above.
We may never recover what we’ve lost
Our health, life, love—these are the cost.
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