Tick, Tock
The hands circle the clock.
Holding my breathe
one, two, three, and four
until it gets harder.
Chained under the confinement of society unable to breathe
pressured by the waters all around me.
If i were to stop holding on would anybody know?
Im pretty low,
so far from shallow.
My cries and tears, neither seen nor heard
tears mesh with the waters below.
Would anybody know?
Would they know the pains that happen here,
the voices i hear.
all the way down here.
Would they hear the screams?
or the plea for help?
Does anybody care,
is there anybody there?
Ticking is the clock
Counting down the time. . .
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
Tick, Tock
The hands circle the clock.
Holding my breathe
one, two, three, and four
until it gets harder.
Chained under the confinement of society unable to breathe
pressured by the waters all around me.
If i were to stop holding on would anybody know?
Im pretty low,
so far from shallow.
My cries and tears, neither seen nor heard
tears mesh with the waters below.
Would anybody know?
Would they know the pains that happen here,
the voices i hear.
all the way down here.
Would they hear the screams?
or the plea for help?
Does anybody care,
is there anybody there?
Ticking is the clock
Counting down the time. . .
Request permission to use this poem