All the clocks. All the clocks. They are just a constant reminder of the day.

A day that has lasted for many years. A day that will last forever. As the hands

of time are never stopping. Never fleeting. Just always there and never gone. I must

go on, move on, but I can't from this day. As soon as it's over it comes right back.

Not just back again, more powerful than ever. Especially since it is the only pain

on the wall.

The pain has been here for four years. Four years that seem to be an eternity.

An eternity that has no colour, no joy, no peace. Who can live in this world of mine?

No one. As I struggle my way through I am forgotten, lost, devoted to getting out of this colourless world of mine.

Colours, all the colours I see in my world are bleak and pointless. Alone, alone that is

all there is. Hanging on the walls is just a physical lonesomeness. As I pursue my way

through this world of mine, seeing many others, but always being alone. The time here is impossible to count, it never ends and only begun four years ago. The clocks tick away in their life trying to count the second.

Seconds have passed and still no end in sight.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i wrote this on the 4th anniversery of my dad's death, it has been hard for me, he was my best freind when i was a child

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