Almost Human

Time
 does not fly.
No.
It
 limps because its’ burden is too hard to bear.

It
 must carry the heavy confusion, jagged memories and harsh truths on its' back.
It
 must passively watch as life brighten and fades.
It
 must pray for miracles right after calamities.

reduced to numbers,
liked and hated,
found then lost again

Time is often
labelled what it is not
the victim of cliches,

mistaken invincible aerial bird,
when
 it often travels on foot, tired,

walking,
 sprinting, crawling
gauging
 its' own pace
witnessing
 people’s struggles
a
 wandering figure we
 fail to recognize
 at first glance

Cycling
 through emotions
Vicious
 and virtuous

It
 seems
Almost
Human.

I’ve been saved
by time

yet wrecked by it.

I notice it usually angers when tired and bothered,
When it feels rushed.

Some days, I wake up in a daze.
With blurred eyes.
I
 attempt to catch its’ reflection in the mirror,
to track its' subtle movements around me,
to treasure it's company,
because I know it cannot stay with me indefinitely