The tick of a clock,
The ring of a bell,
All of these things,
Bring us back to where we dwell.
But what if all of it stopped,
And we were left with our thoughts?
What would we think?
What would we do?
What would come of it when it's all through?
Traveling to the concealed parts of our minds,
Where there,
It's hiding,
What we are trying to find...
Coming from the demons
That slumber inside...
The strength and the power
To fight and survive.
But what if we can't?
What if we fail?
We are left to cry and wail.
Then we are left in those inky parts,
And then no one can save our frail little hearts...
Then when we are weak,
IT comes and overtakes.
IT tears us apart until we break.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
Poetry"Every poem you write should be like someone reading your 'things'. It should be terrifying and incredibly embarrassing. "
