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Justin S Wampler
Poems
May 2015
the time machine
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.
#time
#clock
#old
#childhood
#age
#youth
#machine
#grow
#fade
Written by
Justin S Wampler
30/M
(30/M)
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