Time

Time is many things. It's a wall we blame, an excuse for why we're late. It's what makes the Summer days long and Winter nights longer. It's the explanation for why things happen. It's what we wait for, what we become impatient over. But it's not time herself we blame. It's the ropes. Her ropes that hold up the bridge between Life and Death. She loosens and tightens however she please. No matter what or 𝘄𝗵𝗼 it takes. Some bridges are longer, 100 planks and knots, the planks rough and sturdy, only faded and mossed at the ends. Some bridges don't exist, a single rope holds two pikes, as reapers carry dolls and the tears of heartbroken couples down the path. Some are too short, children who never got the chances, led by angels to protect their souls from the monsters in the dark. Some are long, Parents, Grandparents, Friends, People. They lived lives full and happy. But never satisfied. Time isn't fair, but she knows this. Time is scary, but she knows this. Time runs out of rope. and this she hates But a job is a job. and hers is one she is blessed and cursed with. I like Time, she helped me live. She helped me love. She hurt me Yet Time heals all wounds...