#1
tick
tick
Mind racing.
Feet pacing.
tick
tick
Hands shaking.
Heart aching.
tick
tick
Sleep delaying.
Thoughts decaying.
tick
tick
Mouth pleading.
Skin bleeding.
tick
tick
tick.
(b.m.)
#2
I got a splinter in my hand yesterday,
Still, the clock ticked.
Things didn't go as planned yesterday,
Still, the clock ticked.
I forgot to take my meds today,
Still, the clock ticks.
The loneliness spreads today,
Still, the clock ticks.
I'll breathe my last breath someday,
Still, the clock will tick.
We'll all meet with death someday,
Still, the clock will tick.
and tick. and tick.
(b.m.)
#3
The clock ticks 86,400 times per day.
It's been two years since you left without saying
goodbye,
and not one tick has brought me closer to feeling
whole again.
(b.m.)
For the wallflowers, the dandelions, and the moths. For those who sometimes feel less, feel average. The ones often overlooked, often misplaced. You have beauty that goes deeper than what your appearance can exude. You are the dreamers, the artists, the poets. You see the world as it truly is, without the filters and masks. You look past labels because you don't need validation from society to know who you are. A moth is just a butterfly with a different name, after all.
Anatomy of This Blog
Anatomy of this blog: a compilation of poetry--either written by myself or others--artwork, thoughts, emotions; any form of creativity.
Wednesday, December 12, 2018
Series: Ticking Clock
Labels:
clock,
deep,
infinite,
mental health,
metaphor,
moth poetry,
poem,
poet,
poetry,
series,
thoughts,
tick,
ticking,
time
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