Friday, January 16, 2009

Clocks.

All eyes are on me
the long hand slowly shifts to the left
The reflection of all pupils flicker on my shiny surface
the frowns appear
as I tick tock tick tock...
the sound vibrates strongly in one's mind
the representation of time slowly passing them
an irreplacable effect ricocheting against the mind
the fear of realizing time will not stop but only continue
the fear of accepting that life is only a pencil without an eraser
many depend on me
just the movement of my hands
and the slow ticking
manipulate the minds of many
They wonder when the torture will cease
the truth is revealed in front of them
my hands will never stop at the wooden tip of the black polished numbers
the articulated tick tocks will never cease
Forever will it last
appreciated and neglected
but at the same time,
serving as a guidance through the endless mazes of life

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