Sometimes,
A ticking tock's hands,
Looks like a pair of scissors,
For people who's in desperated need of time.
Tick, tock.
Goes the clock.
Sixty seconds.
"Please just a little bit more."
Forty five.
holds on tighter
Thirty.
"Please don't go. I need you here."
Fifteen.
"It's not time yet."
Ten.
"I'm not ready yet."
Nine.
"Please, please, please."
Eight.
"Open your eyes."
Seven.
"I promise you we'll do anything you want."
Six.
"Quit playing now, it's not funny anymore."
Five.
"Come back. Please. Just come back."
Four.
"Oh God."
Three.
"Why, why did it have to be me who gets left behind."
Two.
"Please, just one last time, hold my hand a little bit tighter."
One.
sobs

Then a faint voice from next to you gets muttered, that cuts the last strand of hope you ever had.

"Time of death, 12:54."