I feel time touching my body,

turning my girlish features into a women’s figure,

he takes me and carves me to his ways.

Molding me like a sculptor molds his clay,

softly but surely,

his hands create my curves.

I feel time kissing my soul,

showing me the blind passion that is the life of all,

accompanying my passage from innocence to the sin.

He cuts me with inner wounds that won’t heal,

but time comforts my aching heart,

showing me both mercy and vengeance.

I feel the time slip by me

like the grains of sand that slip, through my closed hands.

I hate time, because of what he stole from me,

but I love time, for what he had blessed me with.

Time has shown me death but in death, time has shown me,

Life