People think that because they have strapped Time to their wrists
that they own it...can controll it...by twisting it into
different shapes & positions
. . ..but what do they do when the tick tocks . .
...stop!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
THEN is when they start crying aloud...'Hey, God, can ya help me out here a bit? '