Broken ClocksA Poem by Death's PoetA poem about stopping society from ruining people
In a sea of familiar faces
She stood all alone And the clock ticked on... She didn't speak and wasn't spoken to But she was surely spoken about And the clock ticked on... Though no hands were laid on her Their words cut just as deep And the clock ticked on... The cuts on her arm fueled their fire And their fire fueled her knife And the clock ticked on... She wore her pain on her arms A scarlet letter screaming for help And the clock ticked on... But no help came And so she stood still alone And the clock ticked on... One day her knife didn't dull her pain And the sadness overwhelmed her And the clock ticked on... That day she had enough And she cut a bit deep And finally, her clock stopped. Many broken watches can still work Unless we ignore them until it's too late Don't let their clocks stop...
© 2015 Death's PoetAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorDeath's PoetThe Asylum I call my MindAboutWelcome to my poetic diary. I use this website to pour out my emotions and as a creative outlet. I started writing when I was very young and have been in love with it since. I struggle with a lot of d.. more..Writing
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