Strong-armed by Time,
that petty thug pushing
another victim down an alley,
I'm manipulated forward
Half a heart beating
serves as inadequate propulsion
for anything more than
one step forward, sometimes;
a halted gasping for air, at others.
But the seconds continue their march.
Always the tick of Time
indiscriminate in Its prodding forth
the stragglers and the eager
the surviving aside the thriving
Always, Today begins again.
Having chosen to enter
the almighty metronome.
Perhaps two steps could be managed.