my poems

the clock

Tick and tock,
of a clock,
counting away,
till the final day .
Tick and tick,
just so sick,
hating
waiting.
The strife, 
of life,
just to fall,
like them all.
There are no dreams,
life is all it seems,
It is the same,
all ends in flame.
Yet a latent god,
tells us to watch as we trod,
promising everything,
but is it for nothing?
We leave,
they grieve,
though loved now forgotten,
as corpses turn rotten.
Tick and tock,
I'm waiting on the clock.