Haven't written anything in a while, so here's my newest poem! I might edit it later, just wrote it now in a few minutes...
One thing I know - time is hollow.
Everybody has time -
time to live,
time to give,
time to rhyme.
But nobody can own time -
you can't grasp it, feel it,
you can't save it in a bank,
and get interest bit by bit,
hoping it'll be there when you become blank.
Time is merely a medium for memories.
Some have said that a poem, like a painting, is never finished, merely abandoned. The difference is that when you rewrite a poem you can't see what you've rubbed out!