Time

One, two, three... sometimes I am still and count the time that, like water, runs through my fingers. I cannot grasp it, cannot hold it and I know that every passing second brings me closer to my doom – death.
Four, five, six... and sometimes I hasten through my days, wanting to take all in before it is too late – before I die.
Seven, eight, nine... I see pictures then, admire the scenes but wonder who painted them – they are not my own.
Ten, eleven, twelve... And then I lie awake at night and wonder how it is – to be alive.