The Ticking Clock Poem by Matthew Holloway

I'm a writer
Or at least that's what I dare dream to be
I sit alone in silent rooms
Hunched over a computer screen
Typing away words and thoughts
Generally whatever comes to mind
The only company being a clock
And with it that incessant ticking
Not even the current drink of choice can silence
It grows louder through the night
As my conscience binds with it
Every thought ticks away
Every idea and line ticking away
Till the whole room fits inside
The mechanism of that dammed clock
Each tick growing louder
Seconds claim each heart beat
As I write hopefully typing out
It's my time, seconds out
Round two