I wish the clock will never strike 12 tonight
and it would stop
so the world
won't move.

Only then my own warriors will help me
walk up to you
frozen and still, and I'd sheepishly whisper
"I love you"

Maybe you'd realize that
the lights you wish on
aren't the only ones you need.

Maybe you'd realize that
the dead hands you hold on to
aren't the only ones that are free.

Maybe you'd hear her heartbeat
and realize that hers does not follow
the skipping and tapping of your feet.

Maybe the clock can strike 12
and my infinite qualms about us
would end
and the veneers we have
would descend.

Because in our game of chase
you run to her
and i remain the fool.