*ticking Clock Poem by Jane Meyer

<font color=darkviolet>I hate the sound of a ticking clock.
On and on it goes,
never ceasing,
never changing.

<i>tick-tock, tick-tock, </i>

It’s enough to drive me mad.
It hangs there on the wall,
an unblinking face
staring at me.

<i>tick-tock, tick-tock, </i>

I plug my ears,
turn my back,
but I can still hear the ticking.

<i>tick-tock, tick-tock, </i>

I hasten from room to room,
shutting all doors in my path,
but still, the ticking is present.

<i>tick-tock, tick-tock, </i>

I wrap it in a thousand cloths,
and bury it six feet underground,
but the ticking is unyielding,
ever present in my ears.

<i>tick-tock, tick-tock, </i>

No matter what I do
the ticking follows me,
always marking every second.

<i>tick-tock, tick-tock, </i>

Reminding me of the ones I’ve wasted,
the tens, the hundreds, the thousands,
and of the ones stolen from me,
the millions, the billion, the trillions.

<i>tick-tock, tick-tock, </i>

Sometimes the ticking hides,
perfectly matches my pulse,
but I know it’s there.
I can feel its voice resonating in my ear.

<i>tick-tock, tick-tock, </i>

Away they go,
never to be regained.
constant reminders
that my limited time grows ever smaller.

<i>tick-tock, tick-tock, </i>

Each a moment of my life
being sucked away.

<i>tick-tock, tick-tock, </i>

And there’s nothing I can do
to stop the ticking clock.

<i>tick-tock, tick-tock, </i>

There’s nothing anyone can do.


(I had my analogue watch in my ear when I wrote this and the room was silent except for the ticking. I really do hate the noise. I hope I didn’t go overboard with the “tick-tocks” because I originally had a version with much fewer ones, but as the night wore on and I became more annoyed with my ticking watch, more and more got added. My intension is that they add to feeling of, well, insanity.)