The clock is ticking,
time is thinning.
I'm withered to a few loose threads,
on the verge of snapping,
threadbare.
It's not fair
that nothing gold can stay
summer fades,
you move away,
youthful days,
and these threads that are frayed
can never be put back together.
Time is brutal, everyone dreads her,
you can run but you can't hide.
The clocking is ticking...