I am a time bomb,
Awaiting the day
When I lose it.
The countdown ends,
And I am left in tears,
Scrapes on my wrists
And blood curled in the crevices
Of my arms and on the pearly ground.
I am left with a broken heart,
And bereft of any hope
That I previously had
For a brighter future.
Tick, tock...
Tick, tock...
Although I can never see the countdown,
I always know it's there.
It's in the back of my mind:
Haunting me,
Taunting me.
The numbers drop every time
I hear your name,
Or think of the things you'll miss,
Or when I'm lying awake at night,
Listening to the lyrics of your time.
YOU ARE READING
CCCLXV - Poetry (Part 2)
PoetryPart 2 of my 365--this year: 366--challenge. A poem a day for a year.
