Time

Time
She is not my friend.
Though she motions her fingers
And beckons me with subtle glances,
Her eyes are deceitful,
Like the devil in angelic form,
Or the atheist's mind.
Yet I do need her.
Whether friend or foe,
Whether guardian or reaper,
She controls my life.
My very existence and form.
She tortures me with PAST
Yet motivates me with FUTURE.
Yet all the time running away from me
In the PRESENT.
How I long for her, to have more and more
Yet how I loathe her,
Her absolute hold on me.
Like a gambler with her money.
But she has made me stronger,
Wiser, faster, harder.
She brings out qualities I never knew I had.
And in the end,
When I have accomplished
And everything spent.
When death courts, and she leaves...
I realize...
She is my friend after all...