Poetry

Tick Tock

the clock hangs on the wall
hands spinning above it all
passing by the seconds
watching as the world beckons
the clock watches you slip
stumble, fall, lose your grip
it sees your sad, weary tears
your pain from several years
peers as days become a pattern
and dreams and hopes shatter
captures each and every memory
time stamps them like slavery
you look up from your hurting
tears spilling, eyes searching
the clock was wicked in the passing
now you're left here gasping
what happened in all this time

{tnd}