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Jun 2017
I'm a mime stuck in time
you can only hear my hands
and I can talk all I want
But when my mind is sick
I need a Horologist.

Like my fumbling fingers fail to
pick the tick out my mind
   Infecting my thoughts and
   ******* my time

Seems like the sun's
always setting on my dial
As it waxes and wanes -
I haven't seen the man's face
                 in a while

Look up for reflection
but only see Khronic-Introspection
National poetry day
Written by
Karl Johnson  21/M
(21/M)   
401
 
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