What Makes Me Tick


What Makes Me Tick


The sound of scratching,

On a chalkboard.

Using a pen and not putting the cap back on;

Not clicking it back into its rightful place.

My hair obscuring my vision.

The feeling of bugs crawling all over me.

Constant nagging from my parents.

My temper.

The echo of honks from cars that line the New York City streets,

One after another,

After another.


The bangs of loud noises.

The sound of the clock as,

It ticks.

And tocks.




Standing back and watching,

Watching as things – terrible things – unfold in front of you.



Ignorance is bliss.

But ignorant people drive me crazy.

Making my temper rise,

Causing the screaming,

And shouting.


Love falls apart,

As hypocrisy litters the heart.

Yet, here I am,

Being hypocritical,

As the clock ticks on.

Its tocks growing louder and louder.


It’s ignorant people who drive me crazy,

Who know no better than I.

People who criticize and mock

When they are no better.

Their hurtful comments driving people,

Off of bridges.

Off of rooftops.

Into sorrow.

Into depression.


People who know no consequences for their actions.

People who are ignorant of the needy,

Of the poor,

Of the helpless.

People who walk by, not noticing,

That someone needs their help.

People who take things for granted.

People who don’t go the extra mile,

Or miles;

Passing things off as okay,

When, in reality, they are not OKAY.

People who stereotype me for being Asian.

People who don’t appreciate music,





Of those who fight.


It’s people that drive me crazy.


And yet here I am,

Being hypocritical,

As the clock ticks.

And as it tocks.

As the sounds grows louder.






But I am people.

And I am what makes me tick.


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