Marin Christiana Richardt (17/08/96 / Malaysia)
Heart beats, far too fast.
Imaginary or real, the time has passed.
As I look away, my clock strikes five.
Rap a tap, on my window,
Look, and see fingers pale as snow.
Yet another day, but my clock strikes four.
His eyes, strewn of life,
Blood gone bad shows his earlier strife.
As I seep away, my clock strikes three.
Go away, you foul tempter,
Rid the nightmares, my heart grows emptier.
As I stand stiff, my clock strikes two.
Your arms, enrap me like a cloak,
and will guide me to the last stroke.
As I jump from the cliff, my clock strikes one.
As the coldness takes away my strength,
and my clock shatters to an unrepairable length,
The clock strikes twelve.
Comments about this poem (My clock. by Marin Christiana Richardt )
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