Approval of Time

                                                                 Approval of Time
                                                                       By: Maya
The moments of Time fleets to the cry of my heartbeat.
Faces and emotions flash in memories that are engraved in my mind.
Phases of metamorphosis begs me to wonder,
"What is Time?"
Is it a tool of a higher power to determine your destiny
or is it society's test to dictate your worth?
The clicking of the clock plays like a soundtrack to hobbies and interests.
It pushes and pulls me with orders like a slave,
ushering me to "begin" my meaning.
Time is a judge. All the lines of it's face act in approval.
Instilling if your actions are worthy of it's attention.
Time warns that my moments are not mine.
I throw my hands and surrender my mind to the corrupt keepers of Time;
whose Time is filled with the planting and growing of seeds of how I move,
deciding if I fail or succeed. But it is not their fault, they are ruled by greed for more of me.
It is my beauty they crave.
It is fondled and cuddled then pushed back in indifference.
Keepers of Time enjoy the belittling empowerment.
Slowly conquering my body like poison, I crave for more of their attention.
For more conformation that my time is indeed worth theirs.
In injury and lost, approval for my time is what I am addicted to.
I am the wild wolf that is a victim to the moon's guarding light.