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