Not something l truly thought upon,
Of late however, l think a lot,
Time passes so quickly and it’s gone,
Not just gone, but shot,
Where does time really go, once it is used?
Is there so much of it,
To so freely be abused?
I ask myself again and admit,
Perhaps l have seen too much time pass,
And maybe, just maybe it’s a waste,
Possibly it sits somewhere amassed?
Or maybe, just maybe it’s been misplaced?
But no, time waits for no one,
It moves on over and over again,
Presence is practical not for fun,
Time used just disappears down the drain,
Once gone, it’s gone, forever and a day,
If not used properly that’s your lookout,
Time is friend to no one, it does not play,
For your life’s benefit throughout!
Looking back in time, l have to ask,
What have l done wrong, where did l do blunder?
Why do l live behind this mask?
Of not displaying truly what lies under?
Have l been so ashamed to admit fault,
In times’ deliverance of passing,
That emotions confused sunken in vault,
And not wanting to be seen as harassing?
Yet is this true all the time?
Do l worry whilst within my mental home,
Of those doors closed behind,
Or perhaps now l am tiring of being alone?
© Rory Matier 2014
Guy or Bloke, Your Choice