The clock.
There’s always a clock
No matter where I go, it’s there
Always, sitting on the wall
Reminding me of the seconds
That just ticked by
One minute…
Five minutes…
The pain, the fear
Spasms of tension rolling off me
And then I wait some more
Another minute
Yet one more
And then another
And then
It’s time to pull myself together
I jump off
Everything intact
But for that little piece of my soul
That dies each and every time
I look at the clock on the wall
Tick tock tick tock
Reminding me of
How futile it eventually is.
And then I leave.
Yannisms 