I’m always running out of it,
Slipping through my hands like sinking sand,
Always chasing the cows tail,
Trying to squeeze as much out of it as I possibly can,
Making the most of every passing moment.
But time does not suffer fools like me,
With my ‘clever’ trickery and short cuts,
I always fall short in the currency of minutes.

Time is cruel, hasty and unforgiving,
The seconds of the clock skip past,
Taunting me, mocking me.
I dig my heels in and clench my fists,
I cut off all circulation trying so desperately to hold on to it.
But she is a cruel mistress and she waits for no one.
I’m almost oblivious to the deep pools rippling in my eyes,
The memories dive in head first with a splash,
Escaping down my cheeks, already running away from me.

I often tell myself not to get upset about the things I cannot change,
And the passing of time is immortal, inevitable, final,
A nail in the coffin.
I know in my heart of hearts it is not possible,
But if I could just hang on to each second a moment longer,
I wonder if it would ever be enough.

I choke beneath this tightened noose,
For crimes I did not commit,
I was a rabbit caught in the headlights,
I lied.
Out of fear, Out of control,
Out of duty, Out of govern,
My lack of self worth,
My cowardice would condemn me.

He never imagined a life with the home front,
A money making machine,
Turned to money making monster in these trying times,
The ideal drastically different to the decomposing reality.
Just a boy,
A vulnerable victim of flawed foreign policy,
Or vindictive villain hell bent on political revenge?

Situation out of hand,
They drained your soul,
And hung it out to dry,
Veiled in sagacious honour,
Taking one for the team.
Lesser ranking diminishes my importance,
A name, a number, a badge,
No one ever sees the whole picture.

With the rise of the Berlin fall,
He crumbled beneath the strain,
Just a boy,
Trapped in the mangled mess of war and politics,
Nothing out of the ordinary,
Vulnerable, eyes lit up with fear,
Imprisoned by influence and manipulation.

I never thought my life would come to this,
I pulled the goggles over my eyes,
& looked to the trees with tunnelled vision.
I was now seeing the world,
In peripheral and 20:20.
The trees were fresh, flourishing in fleshy green,
& I knew I would never be free.

Would she use the playground argument;
'But I was here first?'
To which I would respond;
'That is irrelevant darling,
It comes down to survival of the fittest,
Natural selection.
If you're not strong to fight,
Then scamper and flee.

But guilt is overwhelming,
The water that I tread is deep,
The waves boil, burns and I blister,
How much longer can I keep up this charade and false pretence?
If she were to confront me,
What could I say to her?
What could I really honestly say to her?

I stumble and trip over the same mistakes repeatedly,
One day I will fall,
With my face in the dirt,
I will crumble beneath my unlearned lessons,
I will shatter underneath the strain,
Who would I have to blame for that?

In my eyes, she is the one in the wrong,
But I am the criminal,
I am the one who wears the orange jumpsuit,
I am the one who is bound by handcuffs,
I am the one confined to this cell,
I am not in possession of the key,
I could take it- even though it is not mine,
I am used to that, after all.

Yet there are cracks in my performance,
I am destroying the programme and order of things,
I sneak a glance through the curtain from time to time,
Revealing the part of the plot,
As the audience puts the puzzle pieces together.
The curtain will rise soon,
The harsh glow of the stage lights will expose everything and everyone in the way that it should be,
Then choices will have to be made.

Until then,
I will keep my head above water,
But only just.
Eventually I will drown,
Meeting my fate like an old acquaintance,
One I had been expecting to visit.
I will fall prisoner to all of my mistakes,
We all give into our inner weaknesses,
Some more than most.
When I run out of people to point the finger at,
I am the only one left to blame for this.