PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Sitting once more

My life controlled by the tick of the clock

I wait for the number

To strike that sets me free

Seems almost impossible

As I go delirious

I try to carry on my ideas…

My train of thoughts…

I ignore the tunes running through

The dense atmosphere

Of my little trap

If I go insane…

At least it will be on video

For everyone to watch

I prefer this moment alone

As it is, I hardly am

But when the strangers grace me

With their presence

I have to wonder

What runs their world?

Could it be god?

Could it be the blood in their veins?

The wife and children they hold dear?

Mine surfaces as the white face of time

Punctuated with its little black marks

It’s arms graceful and precise

Destined to show me when it begins

And when it ends

As if life was just so simple

That clock has a mark for me

And when times face turns black

And those numbers become

My signature

I close my eyes and sleep

Because I found the key

And all I can say is

Now I’m free