Time

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lying on this surfaceof an old wall clocknow all i can hear istick

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lying on this surface
of an old wall clock
now all i can hear is
tick..tock, tick..tock

my limbs stretch far
as the hands of time
strugglin' on a clock
like outdated rhyme

i long to turn it back
all moments gone by
but my mind clouds
like an overcast sky

my life measures in
spoons of sand grains
slowly falling down
an hourglass of rains

cannot i pause it all?
this passing of days
to dig out a moment
of a love like sunrays

it is escaping me all
tears colour my face
i'm stuck on a clock
with a bullet's pace!

oh, i try to run away
but i'm tied up hard
on this time machine
feeling like a retard!

all these numericals
are drivin' me crazy
i am so bad at maths
my vision is so hazy

oh how do i survive
this toll of time, dear
without a calculator
not in sight, not near

i keep lying through
the day and the night
though i see mornin'
but hardly any light!

i wish i could scratch
all digits in this place
to stop the time from
stealin' our last trace

and if i could, i would
burn my limbs to ash
to escape cursed time
that's an infected gash

come back, sweet love
pause time once again
help me hold eternity
for time only gifts pain

Author's Note

Listening to 'Moments' by One Direction. Good ol' times. :')❤

This poem's not about a person who is literally tied on the surface of a wall clock. It's about someone who feels every second passing by because when one loses love, every single moment that's spent without the person one loves is felt. So, at the end, one wishes for this sweet love to come back because only love makes the time stop and turns every single minute into a beautiful eternity. I hope you like this idea. =)

Did you like the poem? Do you have any requests? Do you want me to write about something that you have in mind but I haven't put it here yet? I don't guaranty that I'll accept all of your ideas because a poet only writes when he feels it deep in his heart. And I cannot say that 'I'll try' because a poet never 'tries' writing poetry. Poetry just comes at his door and enters without knocking because yes, who knocks before entering one's own home? :)❤ However, your suggestions might inspire a new idea in my heart so don't hold back. I'd love to know what you've got in your minds. :D

Much Love,
Hazel *-*

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