The Clock

The Clock

I hate the way, the hands, they dance

Number to number they mockingly prance

As if, somehow, they gleefully know

My heart is breaking as they go

Tick after tock, I hear it’s daunting laugh

As I mourn my beloved’s chosen path

Counting the seconds as they pass

Clinging to the moment, in case it’s our last

Those ticks and tocks, like stabs of pain,

Daggers that pierce me again and again

The face of that clock, it stares into mine

As if it knows I despise its time

As the pendulum swings

You can hear it, it sings

“Time for you to part!”

You board the train

I’m paralysed by pain

Clutching at the remains of my heart