Time is running out for me, as I watch
each day past. Slow ticks from the clock
that hangs upon the wall.
Tick, tock, tick, tock, like a beating of
a heart, Knowing I'm going to die doesn't
really bother me at all.
But to lie here and listen to that rhythm
of ticking, waiting with each passing second
is truly distracting to my thoughts.
If I could gather my strength I would ask
for it to stop. But on the other hand, It
may just as well keep going, like it was
made to do. Tick tock tick tock.