Tick.
Tick.
Tock.

The clock
Is running,
And I’m
Holding still.

Waiting.

Time is
Passing,
Time that will
Never again
Return.

I grow old.

My soul
Grows weary,
And I wonder
Of things
I missed.

I live alone.

My world consists
Of things and people
That do not exist.
Everything that
Has conspired
Has been for
The good of
Myself, no one
Else, and
Everything is
To my satisfaction.

It is dimly lit,
My chambers.
I clamber into
Bed and see
Nothing.
The world is
Grim, and the
World is cold.

But isn’t the
Expected the
Greatest of
Satisfactions?

I leave the
Living before
I am dead.
Now, I
See, and it
Is only due
To my inability
To look.

Now, I see
People, instead
Of looking for
Faults.

I find them anyway.

Now, I see
Ideas, instead of
Looking for
Objectives.

I uncover them anyway.

Now, I see
Emotion, instead
Of looking for
Fakeness.

I expose it anyway.

And here
I thought the
World I lived
In was better.

Foolish me.