The clock

“I try to run faster than the clock’s hands,
Holding them, pulling them back,
Anything to stop them from going so fast.

The effort quickly wears me out,
Forced to stop, I get hit on the head
By the hours that keep on ticking ahead,
Blissfully not caring if I still hold on to them.

Alas, I got stuck within the clock
That, for years, has been on my wall,
Victim of my most vacant stares
When I’m still here, dreaming about somewhere…”

Ana