A Poetry

Photo by Artem Riasnianskyi on Unsplash

There was a time,
When traveling,
Across distances,
Would take days.

Today it takes,
Hours or maybe,
Still no time.

The perception,
The freedom,
Of having time,
The prison of perfection.

Where has the time,
Why the hands of,
The clocks,
Run so fast now.

I don’t know,
Has come to pass.

When you are happy,
Time passes like nothing,
When you are sad,
Time slow down.

When you are hustling,
To keep food,
On the plate,
Time rushes by.

From energetic lives,
To wizened visages,
Of the human,
Time runs by.

Time runs by,
The cruelest of,

Abhishek Verma

Human Being | Writes about Personal Development | Pens Poetry Posthaste | Subscribe at https://seizetheday.substack.com

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