Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2019
A blind face is the only introspection
many can afford.
Does watching make it worthwhile?
Does counting calm your nerves?

The hands will always listen,
when all we are is gone
The ticking never ceases,
whispering along.
Written by
Matt Bernstein  30/M/Atlanta
(30/M/Atlanta)   
  226
   Matt Bernstein
Please log in to view and add comments on poems