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Tongues longing for emotions flowing with wind of luxurious eve Yearning glide from caves of creatively unweave and heave
My first word was “tick tock” My favorite blanket had clocks on it I am and was and always will be obsessed with clocks And with the idea of time
Tic Toc Tic Toc Life is lived by the clock
Hickory, dickory, dock. Three mice ran up the clock. The clock struck one, and down two run, mourning the terrible loss.
Another day passes by like the tickety tock of the clock Noticed, but ignored Forgotten as one indevidual tick, Remembered as a whole  Tick, tock, tickety tock.
  2:57 is the first thing my eyes take in as the shoot wide open The glow of my alarm clock sends me this eerie feeling I sense extreme warmth as the once cool room has dampened
The clock shall always be the enemy, With his hands of weaponry, Time stamped in history, With actions of misery.   Tick tock goes the clock,
The clock shall always be the enemy, With his hands of weaponry, Time stamped in history, With actions of misery.   Tick tock goes the clock,
Every single second is counting down Tick tock tick tock, it mocks us The clock comes crashing off the wall Tick tock tick tock, it never stops And still we think, that nothing can come between.
It keeps me up at night, the gentle rhythmic reminder. Silence only worsens the sound. If I try to run from it, it gets closer.
Time creeps by like a spider. Now, we are now. Be still, hold my hand. We are now, and now is here. Be here. In this moment we have nothing else. As the tears fall, i fall.
 Tick tock, Clock, Your face faces mine As if by some sinister design I'm inclined to sit and watch your hand. Placing bets like “I dare it to move”
A tick tock noise from the clock in my room Knocks my head on and on Till it wakes me up in the middle of the night, So I found myself looking right at the ceiling My body starts sweating
The clock reads 1:23.  I am still, bathed in the green light of the microwave.  My mind drifts from place to place but my body is stationary.    The clock reads 3:45. 
The craftsmanship of hands at his decree Tells a story of what was and what will soon be A keeper is what you may call him  The precious memories of the past Bears the utmost
Upon a time it first was bornFrom a wedding reception box with wrapping tornLetting light fall upon the newlyweds' giftSoon began to move the infant child's fists A red, roman numeral clock
  Life's Clock By: Katelyn DeShane   Tick-tock the hands turn round and round. When you're young
Up there you sit and mock me,  And your rhythm, Oh it haunts me, You resound within my skull Like a rock against a hull While I lay in bed at night You remind me of your might And I swear I'll take no more Cause you shake me to the core So I'll ri
The clock keeps ticking, but I am just standing. Its like I am walking, without any landing. I hope to walk upon another day, as the clock of life keeps ticking, ticking away.
I reached out  And held on to the whispers  Of my past  With time prying away at my Soul  Afraid of letting go  And falling into her Grasp
tick tock. tick tock. you’re running out of time. you’re going to be too late. tick tock tick tock
Tick Tock   The clock above our old TV tormented me, it’s red numbers screaming distress every time they blinked   Where is he?  
Each and every second is unique. Like fingerprints and sunsets, they are never the same. Each moment is its own. Everytime the clock moves its hand the present becomes past and,
"Beep,beep." The headache starts.
No, I won’t cease Yes, I won’t stop Maybe you know me As the face of a clock I am like a river, I have a flow You can go with me,
Ten minutes is ticking. Can't find the time losing such minutes. Close to such hours I wait patiently, for my moment to shine. I ask myself when will that be?
Tick tick tick A silent wish One owned by quietness Tock tock tock
Tick Tock Two hands On a clock Six to twelve At two o’clock Five chimes ring, Schoolhouse rock   Ticking red hand, Metered like Bach; Cursive Roman numbers
Tomorrow Tomorrow That is when you will be all mine When our hands fold like cards When I feel your marrow against mine
Time is flying by faster than I can blink. Or time has stopped completely, I think... What has become of this place? Is there no distance between time and space? I believe my time's run out. 
Time Begins to Change
“And your homework is…” Tick tock tick tock. Staring at the clock while the teacher says their last thoughts. “You have survived your first week in busi…” Tick tock tick tock.
Although the clock will tick Time seems to melt away
The ticking, ticking of the clock Repetitious, never stopped Ticking, tocking all the day All while the pendulum swings and sways Oh so rhythmic and defined Oh so soothing all the time
(read like to the beat of a metronome or a ticking clock)   Water drips, puckered lips. Tapping sounds, making rounds.  Hitting bars, counting stars. one, two, three, four.
Like the hands on a clock …move Like the wind in September …blows   My mind is systematic, yet it can flow freely like a fluid dream   Like a bowl of dust seeping into crisp air
I forgot my watch today, I tried to draw it on, My hands didn't move, and now the time is gone,
Tick Tock, Years fly by.  Hands upon the clock, Tend to sigh.
With wings of ash darkness hides me Shadows glisten on my feathers Burroughs, dusk, and no where near dawn Creatures scrambling to find shelter fromthose that wait and watch for the next victim
It starts with a seed; manifested and festering in the dark cold arms
I fight with my clockit’s faceplate staring right passed my pupils phasing through defense mechanisms resembling the thick walls of area 51my mind is the U.S. government and what I see as my mind is the U.S. population
circle of two hands  and one hastier than the rest;  in whatever shape or form  it always conforms  back to midnight from noon  and it’s too soon  to determine the monsoons 
Tick, tick, tick, gears are working, spinning round, soothing lullaby keeps me safe and sound. Metallic wings fan out with beauty and reflects light, fighting off the mechanical demons with fright.
Tick-tock now, hurry up and go! The gears of this clocksmith don’t grind themselves you know. Is your beat good? How are your hands? Are in proper shape? I don’t like relying on the hourglass sand.
I catch its glare across the room, I hear its choking laugh, It’s out to get me; I can tell— Keep it far away from me!
(poems go here) Again I write to get these thoughts Out of the clutter of my brain But, as the pen moves across paper, or skin, I find they cannot contain
Alarm clock wakes me Push snooze. Nine minutes later Alarm clock wakes me
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