The mild ticking of clock, Counting your every second It's calm hands stop for a while But there is one which doesn't.
It runs the race Of our life It doesn't get exhausted, It would tick even afterlife.
The sound which runs our feet And makes beads of sweat roll down Our tensed skin The sound which would never stop And if it does, Then our time will too.
The sound is calm But hard to bear When the time passes by And you're just standing here, Thinking about something But not about time. You miss all the hours And stay quite like a mime, Not budging at all.
But the time won't stop, It keeps on ticking, It slowly chops Away the hours of your living.
It's up to you To react in time Or you would too Drown yourself Like everyone who ignored time
Soft whispers, Wet soul, The silver threads Making a complete whole, In this awkward silence, Like a puzzle piece found