The time ticks away,

Fast yet slow.

Minutes ticking by,

Second trudging along.

Time moves clockwise,

It seems.

You slip into old mistakes

As time continues to tick.

What you want most is hours away,

Yet you dread the seconds getting there.

Day after monotanous day.

The hour hand stands still,

While the minute hand spins.

So much time yet not moving forward.

Going backwards yet not moving at all,

Just for the taste of caffine

And the gentle caress of a breeze through your curls

As you continue to spin counter clockwise,

While not moving at all.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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