She wanted to love her
but didn’t know how.
The static in her head was too loud:
crowded commotion that could crack open her cranium countless times.
Then the clocks start counting
unconsciously unnoticed
no one can tell:
not her, not her.
The warning there but under the radar,
Simple to see and quickly discard,
Unexplored feelings left burned, charred
Piles on piles of invisible scars.
After her head has had enough--
Almost as if it was obvious--
The clocks turn carnivorous,
and break down the barriers she bound around them,
destroying her defenses and leaving her defenseless as they detonate the little love she keeps for herself.
Then, there’s nothing left.
Jan 14, 2020
Jan 14, 2020 at 5:17 PM UTC
She wanted to love her
but didn’t know how.
The static in her head was too loud:
crowded commotion that could crack open her cranium countless times.
Then the clocks start counting
unconsciously unnoticed
no one can tell:
not her, not her.
The warning there but under the radar,
Simple to see and quickly discard,
Unexplored feelings left burned, charred
Piles on piles of invisible scars.
After her head has had enough--
Almost as if it was obvious--
The clocks turn carnivorous,
and break down the barriers she bound around them,
destroying her defenses and leaving her defenseless as they detonate the little love she keeps for herself.
Then, there’s nothing left.
a longer version of a poem I wrote a while ago called "tick. tock. tick. tock." just shortened the title.
Request permission to use this poem