Maniacal Clock

just a nihilistic rant about the fleetingness of time and the inevitable anxiety that comes with being mortal. Very casual.

Tick, tock

It’s three-o-clock

January

Now February

Time is out of joint

And nothing I do has a point

Every step I take is another step to my grave

The dread is crushing me and I don’t know how to behave

I’m being torn apart from within

We’re all just so full of sin

Hypocrisies and lies, all for nought

Cause my weary soul will never be bought 

Just want to plan my life

Amidst all the blood and strife

Chaos and destruction, bloodshed and war

What the Hell is it all for

We’re all gonna die soon anyway

Try to carve meaning out of every day

Don’t know how to make the most of the precious time I have here

Terrified of failure, don’t want to mess it up, living in fear

Can’t do my work, no energy left

Every breath I take is a theft

Stealing life, not sure what to do with it

Drained, exhausted, falling into an endless pit

Author's Note

hope this wasn't too dark, just really needed to get this out.

Reviews

[Jimmy Yetts]

If you can find no meaning to life, how will you know what failure is?
At one time or another, we've all felt this way.
Perhaps positive change is just over that, presently, dark horizon.
Strongly stated poem!

[AngstyIdiot9000]

good point, Jimmy, thanks for the kind review :)