When the Clock Betrays You

The alarm screamed in my ear—

sharp, impatient, but the storm's roar

smothered its fight.

I slept like a stone sinking

past every second it called.

Seven forty-six, blinking in red,

caught between peeling paint and cold wood.

Outside, the bus came and went

like a ghost I never caught,

slipping away on empty streets

while I lay tangled in sheets too tight,

heart thudding behind my ribs

as if punishing me for staying.

The clock keeps flashing

though the day moved on without me.

The job, the chance,

all vanished

before I could lace up my shoes.