Quicksand Poem by Daniel Fortuna Jr.

Tick tock, tick tock, the sands that I hear are like words uttered by the clock.Each sound that it makes cuts e like a knife as if it's reminding me of how much time I have wasted & opportunities I have squandered all throughout my life.Oh how the time has past, here one moment & gone the next seemingly lightning fast.Those days that I knew when I stood in the light of dawn, but alas I'm left to capitulate to the reality that those days are gone.
Tick tock again it goes does the clock as if it is mocking me.I know that I cannot turn it back to when I want it to be, for that is ultimately an unfair waste, but nevertheless, an implicit reality.The clock that I see the, the clock that I hear from within my mind, the pieces come together to form the intimidating face of fear.The reason for this, to that which I am vigilant of, is that I & all will fade into the unknown, all we can do is complain & moan.Fade we will, as that unforgivable entity for which it measures, urged us to quickly embrace life's many wonderful pleasures.Oh how the seconds & minutes fall; how relentless they are as they effect us all.Watch as it's pendulum swings; I can only sit & ponder that,to which the future brings.Left to right continuously it moves, counting down the seconds.Tick tock again & again goes the clock.