The hands on this clock seem to spin endlessly slower. Every minute becoming an hour, every hour a day, and no matter the strength I put into changing it, it seems irreversible. No matter how forcefully I push my hands against the walls, they loom ever closer, cutting out the daylight and making it hard to breath. And every moment that another problem arises I lose another hour of sleep, though it seems to be okay lately. It has given me time to think, perhaps too much time, but time all the same. In the end it will prove if it is helpful, or if it is the hindrance that it seems to be. It seems to be my noose these days, constricting me and holding me, making it impossible for escape. But it's alright, I would rather be in one place and be able to think than to be thrown out into the world and into the overwhelming confusion. There is too much noise out there.
Tick tock,
Tick tock,
Water splashing against a dock.
Tick tock,
Tick tock,
The smiling face is all in mock.
Tick tock,
Tick tock,
The broken ring of a broken rock.
Tick tock,
Tick tock,
Time is a broken clock.
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