It’s killing me,
exacting revenge for all the times I killed it.
It’s not doing it quickly, either.
Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, as if to torture me,
it reaps my sorrow.

A cold-blooded killer,
this thing just laughs.
It laughs and eats away at me,
like guilt,
but for no reason.

What did I do to deserve such punishment?
I killed something precious.
We all have it,
some of us, too much,
some, too little,
some just don’t notice it.

Time.
The number one killer.
Once yours is up,
you’re a gonner.