The old wooden clock has been clicking since we existed,
Counting down the minutes of the presence of us.
It records the existence of everything that has started until its death,
Even if there are no people to remember.
It holds the lives of you and everyone you hold dear.
And it will keep ticking.
Even when the room turns black
And the clock is destroyed,
The faint, repetitive, tick will still bounce off the walls.
Continuing.
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 10:02 PM UTC
The old wooden clock has been clicking since we existed,
Counting down the minutes of the presence of us.
It records the existence of everything that has started until its death,
Even if there are no people to remember.
It holds the lives of you and everyone you hold dear.
And it will keep ticking.
Even when the room turns black
And the clock is destroyed,
The faint, repetitive, tick will still bounce off the walls.
Continuing.
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