hourglass

there is something about

the world

spinnig

round and round and round

days starting and days ending

while I wait for a

spectacular bang

which is yet to come

 

there is something about

a clock

ticking and tocking

ringing and chiming

that strikes a chord in me

so deep

deep down

inside of me

 

there is something about

time

so eternal

yet brutally able

to come to an abrupt

halt

 

there is something about

the hypnotising force

moving

in an endless cycle

quickly,

slowly,

rotating

away

 

there is something about

the clock

in my tiny bedroom

hanging on blue walls crammed

with pictures

and memories

and paintings

and bookshelves

 

there is something about it

because

I see

the endless threat of life

slipping by

I see

past moments

I could have changed

 

I see

the person

I used to be

I see

the person

I have become

 

I see

a little girl

stuck

between two choices.