Tick. Tock, Tick, Tock
Ever, turns, the ticking, clock.
The hands move fast, but time moves slow,
Then all at once, your worlds aglow.
The fire and screams, of washed up dreams,
the dust of things, torn at the seams.
Hopes once lofty, now asunder,
trying to keep, from going under.
But time has come to tale the lashes,
to pick up from these kindling ashes,
the life and vigor now renewed
to build a better, stronger, you.