Tick-tock - Tick-tock

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. That’s the sound of life. Ever-ticking, counting down, A soundtrack for our fleeting days. We have this old Russian clock at home, A rusty relic, its hands creaking, Telling stories of a life lived and lost. It stops sometimes. Dead in its tracks. No tick, no tock. Just silence. A silent echo of the silence that’ll greet us all. That clock, man, it’s a damn prophet. It whispers secrets in the dead of night: “Don’t wait.” “Mend the broken bridges,?before they’re swallowed by time’s endless tide.” Each chime is a reminder, a punch in the gut: “Tick-tock. You got work to do.” I have unfinished apologies to give, forgotten birthday calls to make, resentments to shed, and hearts to heal. Because one day, the clock’s gonna say "Checkmate." The final chime will fade, and you’ll be left with only echoes of “What if?” Don’t let the clock win. Turn your time into gold, make each moment count, mend what's broken, love with abandon, and embrace the dance of life, before the music stops.