I lay there.
The clock ticking sets the rhythm of my restlessness.
I am a tiny ball amidst the covers of my cold bed,
Surrounded by darkness.
The only light is set forth from my clock.
I do not wish to look but I cannot close my eyes,
So I stare at it.
Its ever-increasing numbers are a reminder
Of the countdown to the rising of the sun
And its dreadful cheerfulness.
Ah, yes, the glorious morning...
The birds chirping, a new day begin.
Damn that clock and its slavery to time!
As I lay in the darkness,
I despise that coming beacon of hope!
New beginnings are no good
When the previous knows no end.
Yet I have no choice, I am a slave as well,
So I lay there.
Unknown Playful - 16 years, 11 months, 27 days ago