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Laughing Clocks
November 11, 2022
The deceitful clocks are laughing at me.
Disturbing smiles creep on every blank face.
Dancing on my hands as I sip tea,
I run through time to avoid lifeless space.
I’m the past thinking about the future.
Time crumbles with each fugacious minute.
Undreampt tears in timelines need a suture.
My eyes widen observing red digits.
Ticking voices fill my once empty head.
You’re now as old as you have ever been.
Time is an illusion I think in dread.
I walk the paths of age with wrinkled skin.
In the moment I take a heavy breath,
And blow out the candles thinking of death.
© Anonymous
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This piece is about the people who ruminate on their birthdays of all the time that has passed so fast. They have gotten older, meaning their time left here has shortened, and they fear death and what will become after it.