Time,
slowly drifting,
a friend,
an enemy,
always slow when unwanted,
but always fast when needed,
is it an illusion?
or does it really control all?
everyone has their own time,
time to eat,
time to sleep,
and time to be themselves...
without time,
what would be existance?..
what is to happen if the pendulum stops swinging on the clock of life?
do we all stop?..
or... just fade away...
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stories/poems/drawings
i write about whatever im feeling like or have felt like
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Though it is just an illusion, but hey I love poems about them none the less.