The Clock
There’s a heart that
beats
and a clock that
chimes
Moments pass
as they both keep
time
Opportunities
lost again
Words don’t flow
from an idle pen
Deeds don’t come
from an idle hand
Seeds won’t grow
in a barren land
Something stalks me
Something’s there
Something haunts
my every prayer
Aggravation
Life slips by
Desperation
Sleepless nights
Cold against
the words I say
Time won’t make
this go away
It merely ticks
to count the deeds
Mounting numbers
don’t mislead
They all add up
to tell the tale
of downward slide
towards the hell
That I’ve created
Idle hands
Not but dust
on barren land
Depicts the seeds
that I have sown
And with this pen
I’m left alone
In idle silence
Years go by...
As the heart beats
on
and the clock keeps
time.
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