TIME..

A work of art is twisted surrendered to design,

the grains of sand fall through the glass,

morphing into what will be the blood of father time,

a blade of grass breaks the snow as it rises towards the Sun,

the past escapes a cage of ice to witness future done,

heat will heal and pain will fade,

Smiles come and go.

life inside a psycho's mind is eternity on death row,

a black abyss a fiery pit,

the hell of my own thoughts,

time can heal most anything but not the stench,

I do fear,

of my own Eternal rot.....