time is ticking, ticking away
how much heavier will it weigh
"enough," I say, to the clicking clock
it doesn't stop its endless knock
"who's there?" only my mind and I
sitting, watching my thoughts fly by
spying, they see fear in my mind
keeping me from time to unwind
winding up to restart my hands
writing thoughts by connecting strands
lines made from ink, finally whole
from emotions my pen once stole
they reach the end and start again
they'll never stop, but even then
they like the sound, the beating drum
the graceful thump, painful to some
ba-dum, a rhythmic clicking clock
quiet, working behind great locks
caged inside the fortress it drives
surrounded with soft walls and knives
ticking and tocking the day away
it beats to fill the time of day
never to stop till it's broken
and even then, it's not stolen
it still beats but it stays in place
the same second with a cracked face
never ticking, clicking forward
till a hand pushes it onward
guiding the fragile beat around
time cueing it to make a sound
ba-dum ticking ba-dum tocking
don't open the soft door, knocking
it will open when it is time
but until then, let it steal rhymes
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryJust a bunch of poems I'm writing. They may not be any good but I like them. I'll try to update it every once in a while with one or more poems.
