Time demands an essence…
Controlling will for those of late,
I cry in vain,
For this train has left without me.
Standing here chained…
Wrapped tightly emerged by rain.
As I view it’s lights guiding dim
I run for tunnelled shelter,
Light repeals to seep within.
Alone in darkness I run.
My surroundings exceed me,
My site is deceiving…
My life keeps repeating…
I see,
A damaged clock.
Tick, Tock
Tick, Tock
I follow these leading tracks,
With no mind to turn or go back.
I keep running into night.
Until I see a light…
A Bright light,
Shinning in the night.
Eccentric feeling,
I dropp there kneeling.
Opposite beside me.
Is a need...
To be free….
Tick, Tock…
Tick, tock..
Tick,
Tick,
Tick,
Tock! ! !
'The sound of a dying clock.'
~Empath~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I hate the sound of ticking clocks. This one made me want to shiver... Well done Empath! HG: -) xx