I Am a Clock

sometimes i feel like my life is a clock i am programmed to behave like a robot my mind ticks along with the little hand of an analog clock as i tell myself who to be at 6 am i am weighing the pros and cons of faking another sick day to stay home and fill my day with poetry and sleep, but by 7 am i have transformed into an eager and lively girl who can’t wait for what the day holds within the hours to come i undergo small changes of becoming more bitter and withdrawn at 12 pm my patience begins to cease and my excitement is a flickering candle light in a windy storm as the day continues i talk less and less and my forehead begins to crease as the weights on my eyes grow heavier and heavier at 3 pm i allow my thoughts to drift and be pulled by the winter wind on my walk home from school, and it doesn’t take long for 4 pm to reach when i’m back in my bed and i am consumed by regret of what my day consisted off and by 5 pm i am sufficiently filled with anger as i watch my life on a loop at 8 pm i close my binders and put away my homework while wondering if i can do it all again the next day, and a short 60 minutes later at 9 pm i find myself standing in the shower trying to decipher between the tears and the water at 11 pm i have said goodnight to my friends, but not to the moon my mind wanders to places of pixies and fairy dust and eternal rest and loud music and my life quickly jumps to 12 am when i really start questioning why i’m still awake because i know that the morning is six short hours away, then monsters crawl out of my ears and more tears emerge from my eyes as i wonder if everything is still worth it at 1 pm i force myself to sleep because i remind myself that when i’m asleep i don’t have to think about things like how my mind is a shattered mirror and my life is a clock with a broken second hand. m.r.