Time is a tyrant
baking us in the unrelenting fire of change,
forming hard shells around us
like cement cocoons.
We are trapped in her embrace,
ushered through the moments we are gifted with
like cattle being prodded through the chute.
We are her slaves,
compelled to dance
regardless of what our feet may think.
Encased in this sarcophagus of flesh
I was born, I live, I will die-
just another extra on the set
waiting for that authoritative director to yell:
“That’s a wrap.”
(5- 9- 12)
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