Tick.Tock.Tick.Tock.Tick.Tock
This is me now,
With no hand apon the clock
Each minute passes, and another remains
A second later, and the feeling's still the same
One Long tiring hour... This is so unfair
All these locked up emotions
And the feeling that one is afraid to share
This is the time
This is the waste
This is the ending
And the start of something new
It's like the conscious bearing of a bomb
I need to speak,
Before it goes off
It's like the beat of my heart
Another beat. Another beat.
Before it's bound to smash all apart.
I can feel me aching
I can feel it burn
I want to curl away and never return
But this is My Life. This is My Mess.
This is who I am.
So there's no giving up.
Soon, I'll look back.
And realise, it was all for a reason.
Untill then I'll just have to hypnotise myself...
...With the tapping of the clock.
As well as the annoyance of them saying:
"And how does that make you feel?"
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Time's wearing on.
© Copyright 2007 Roseyness (UN: roseyness at Writing.Com).
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