Clock

Feel the ticking of the metal beast.
Rub your heart against
its cool, steel circle. Entwine your hands
with its skinny arms, prowling
blood-thirsty hands.
 
Each second passes through you,
counting each moment of blind fear.
You’re naked in the truth of it all.
 
How each precious minute is wiped away,
your life slowly fading.
Then
you’re gone.
No pain,
no feeling,
you’re a part of the clock,
a part of the semi-soundless world of the lost.
 
Only the ticking can calm you.