Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Clock on the wall 
You're nothing at all
But a torturous device made by hand

So many enslaved 
By this force in the way 
The very thought of it reminds them of the grave

Just live your life
Don't fear what's on the other side
Or you'll be sure to drive yourself insane

Pondering the mystery
Is the rest black or is it the idea we have been force-fed throughout history 

Truth is, it will never be clear
Until that day comes
When you hear that final thump in your ear 

Will all the stories be true 
Or will the truth come to be the thought that has relentlessly haunted you 

Regardless, there is one thing, one constant, no matter the ideas or beliefs you are holding

Way after you're gone, way after everyone you know is gone 
The clock keeps rolling