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What's wrong with me? I feel inferior,

I feel for death as it strikes me superior,

The purpose of life is as worthless as hellos and goodbyes,

when a stranger looks me straight in the eyes.

As I watch the hourglass run out of times,

I notice teardrops coming out of my eyes.

The sky is my father that lies far above,

the ocean, my brother, contributes my love,

I look down and squint as I feel the pain,

but somehow it tells me not to be ashamed.

As i tip the hourglass it shatters,

for life itself doesn't really seem to matter,

then I realize what I've done is my crime,

I'm just guilty of sending away the sands of time.