Cliched Poem by Desiree Whitamore

i feel it in the air
the smoke will settle around.
and then the liar inside of you
will come out.

do not want for nothing.
beggars can't be choosers.
and when the lies start spreading,
you'll be alone.

time is like age.
time is nothing but a number.
you can't stop time,
but you can beat it.

promises are meant to be broken.
we all live in cliches
i can't escape the ticking,
and neither can you.