Time.

Time.

What are you?

Sometimes you drip, slowly like the broken toilet in my downstairs bathroom.
Other times you seem to pass with a flash.

Why is it that when I want you to pass, you linger?
Or when I wish you would stand still, you run away?

Because of you, the sad are doomed to live long and sorrow-filled lives.
The happy never quite have time to enjoy what they have.

If time is money, then the happiest are poor.

If the happiest are poor, then why do we seek riches?

You're a cruel thing, Time, but when it comes down to it, I'd rather live an hour in an instant than a lifetime in a year.

Here's to short lives and happy people.
Here's to the instants.