A clock hangs in the corner of my vision,
Ever present, like the moon.
Ticking.
Every tick I hear brings me one second closer to death.
Every swing of the hand takes an hour from my life.
However, this in itself does not scare me.
It is natural.
It is the course of life.
What does scare me,
Is time wasted.
Waking up one morning,
Realizing my time is up,
Knowing I could have done more.
That sends shivers down my spine.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Mar 21, 2023
Mar 21, 2023 at 9:51 AM UTC
A clock hangs in the corner of my vision,
Ever present, like the moon.
Ticking.
Every tick I hear brings me one second closer to death.
Every swing of the hand takes an hour from my life.
However, this in itself does not scare me.
It is natural.
It is the course of life.
What does scare me,
Is time wasted.
Waking up one morning,
Realizing my time is up,
Knowing I could have done more.
That sends shivers down my spine.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Request permission to use this poem