Time, an absolute, yet relative.

During hardship, forlorn, moments:
it is slow, tick by tick… a lackadaisical jester.
As if tomorrow will never come,
as if hours felt like days,
as if you wish to immediately die.

The pain is unbearable, the torment treacherous.
Excruciating agony, with anticipation of therapy.
Permeating through the skin, right into the bones.
Every blood valves suffocating, each vessel about to burst.
Your train of thoughts, muddled in convulsion.
Pollution, Persuasion, Permission.
The three overlaps, the three intervenes, and the three clash.
Like loud bangs and rambunctious cymbals.
CLANG CLANG CLANG.
“Make it stop!”
Your thoughts deter your peace,
and your sickness prevents your happiness.
The insecurities and hate abolishes your well-being,
all you wanted to do was breathe.

We almost forgot that we had the right to breathe,
that oxygen was given as a gift to release.
Inhaling and exhaling should be a blessing,
and every minute should not be this stifling.

Sometimes we forget that time is against us,
and we are the enemies of ourselves.
Don’t continue living if you are actually dead,
but do things that make you alive so that when you die,
you will have no regrets.

Time is absolute, but you can also make it relative.