Watch: Poetry

Time ticks on the watch,

a bit ahead of the time

I fought for,

I recieved,

I need…that’s what I tell myself.

I can’t bring myself

to turn the hands of time to their past

and my future.

I want their past.

I understand the meaning to their past.

Now.

My left wrist

remains bare;

the once covered skin

integrating with the rest of the tan

from walking through time.

I can’t bring myself to put it on.

I feel a shock run through my veins,

a shock I am not ready to accept.

Time ticks on the watch,

a bit ahead of the time

I fought for,

I recieved,

I need…that’s what I tell myself.

 

 

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