Time Stopped

Time drips like water from a leaky faucet,

each tick of the clock echoes, a taunting song,

I sit at my desk, the world a still frame,

and boredom wraps around me, thick,

crushing the air until it feels wrong.

The fly buzzes against the window,

a relentless pursuit, yet futile at best,

I stare into nothing, the seconds stretch,

every moment a test I can’t seem to pass—

what’s left when routine becomes a prison,

a loop of sameness, with no way to surpass?

Outside, the world continues to spin,

while I remain, suspended, afloat in this space,

a ghost in my own life,

hoping for a breath,

a spark, a trace.