Everything’s
happening,

It just happens
to be
that way.

Isn’t
it saddening
To see the world decay
And fade

Away?

In front of your face,
Out of your control,
Is time a
dimension

Or another string to
Pull?

Doesn’t it pull,
Doesn’t it draw
You toward a feeble

Destiny
that cannot be reached?

If only the world,
time itself could be
Ceased,

And taken from the broken
Hands
Of a broken
Land

That only knows
How to
Bend and fold

But not to make,
to mold.