Time, You Say&;#063;

It governs you, we know.
Stern faced, black handed
dismisses your excuses
with a sweep of its arm.

You look at it, we see you,
how it divides
the morning from the afternoon.

You are careless of the minutes
we can tell.
You think they are -
insignificant as ants,
marching in a line towards lunchtime.

It's a trick, we could inform you.
You're spending them.
And they add themselves together
to make the word "waste".

You listen to the tick (we observe)
of seconds passing
uncomfortable as heartbeats
measuring your lives.