Its circular face mocks and laughs
at me with that numerical circumference.

Red and black hands reach out and
grab me tight, leaving bruises on my psyche.

I'm helplessly cast deep into my past
where time flows like molasses.

Back when the clocks
took their time
counting down my life
and rotting my mind.

Back when they were slow
and I just couldn't wait to grow
up.

The rising sun casts
shallow shadows along
the ******* riptide.

Together we float
facing the receding
darkness of the beach.

In the morning twilight
we separate from the way
everyone else spent their day.

Fate. That our paths have seperated.

Rage. Misguided anger hides your insecurities and cowardice.

Intentions. Were always for the best, but we knew this day would come.

Empathy. You lack. Those who help guide you most come second to your arrogance and pride.

Never. Again will I lend my hand.

Dead. You'd might as well be.