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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1973680
Time... the sound of the clock late at night.
Tick. Tock.
Goes the clock.
Wonder if it will ever stop?

Time goes on, reminds the clock.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

As if it is a secret language of its own.
Every second that passes is clearly shown.
Borrowed time, is it all a loan?

Tick. Tock
Tick. Tock.

Oh please can't any one make it stop?
In my brain it does knock.

Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.

Speak the words I can understand.
Perhaps the words of a man?

If you must speak to me.
Oh friend what is it you want me to see?

Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.

Oh, please, oh please.
Stop! Stop! Stop!

The only thing you say is T-I-C-K. T-O-C-K.
T-I-C-K. T-O-C-K.
Yes that is the language of my clock.
© Copyright 2014 Sammie Rose (dreamwryter at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1973680-Tick-Tock