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.