There is one fundemental currency. Time. Your life is shaped by how you spend it.

There are countless things you can do. But nothing can extend it.

We may take those seconds of every day sharpening skills,

Or pursuing Nirvana, popping pills.

I like to personify her, time that is;

She has no equal, she's the entire package.

How we treat her, be it a mistress holding us after a long days work,

Or as our queen, object of our devotion, where we sink all our effort our labor for but a smirk,

It is as I said how our lives come to be—

It is a spectacle of true beauty.

However, for the industrious few,

She does not represent the loving arms you fade into.

Rather a foe, an enemy, someone who is the final barrier to the hopes and dreams that can only be reached for but never attained.

Have her become a part of your thoughts, a figure found every time you glance over your shoulder, she is the reaper, the only one who can keep you contained.