The Clock

I stand alone in my room

And stare at the wall nothing’s new.

Everything’s blank, I already lost my interest.

Slowly I trail my eyes, after the sound, to the clock.

I have never watched it closely,

The sound just shows me how fast it moves, how constant it is.

I slowly trail every little detail of this masterpiece,

The limbs are so entrancing, and they get me.

Slowly everything around me disappears,

And there’s just me,

The clock is magical and it got me.

Through my iris you can see its movements;

Through my ears you can hear its breaths.

It talks to me and it tells me

That when you least expect it, it’s gone.

So make the best of your life

Because you never know what’s going to come,

The future it’s uncertain.

And even if you break it,

You’re never going to make it struck back,

It never goes back, there’s no second chance,

There’s no second thought, and you have just one shot

At everything.

It is unfair; it feels like you’re kept sealed somewhere,

Deep in the abyss of this world.

And you never know what’s real and what’s true,

What’s false and what’s new, what’s life and what’s death?

How long is until you get there?

To the point where life changes, when new doors open,

When you leave the rest to cry while you save yourself and die.

Those tears, you ask, are they for me?

Are they real or they are just acting so flawlessly?

It is all a dream?

Are all these people marionettes made by me?

To make me feel better than I can be.

Is this dream silently whispering to me?

Is this reality all made up by me?

Are all these real?

Am I real?