028. Tick-Tock

There is an old clock

upon my crumbling wall

that shall remain until the end,

the end of my days, 

my final fall.

It ticks my finite life away

each day and every night.

Tick-tock, tick-tock,

my life depends on that clock

to always tick; to always tock.

But as I trudge along

through the wintry blizzard,

the falling flakes of time,

following my fate as I watch

it pass me right by.

Never to stop, never to end

Always on the eternal run, 

though, never from one to ten,

but always ten to none

When there is nothing left

But as I make my way

to the eternal spring,

I shed my pain, I sing it away,

I will be born anew,

from all of my buried wounds.

Only to relive a similar fate

that which reverses the pain

once I make my final amends,

with what keeps me awake

every night, every day.

Tick-tock, tick-tock

The clock shall run out of sand

Maybe not today, nor the next

But one day, one final moment

I will attempt my last escape,

from this scorched land...