Fill me with fine sand, like I’m an hourglass. In that way, I can decide how slow, how fast will the time pass. I decide when to go upside down. I decide when to end and start all over again.
Fine sands, without any traces of tiny rocks.
Fine sands, without any traces of a droplet from the rain you danced with.
Fine sands, without passing all your sins inside it.
Fine sands, so that I may feel that everything will just be fine, though the gravity decides to pull every bit at 9.8 m/s², whatever the numbers would be.
I will decide the time to not let you waste it. The time that you will be honest… it’s what you owe me. Until then, I can say your time is up, unless you put more and make the most out of it.