Time’s Relentless Grip

Ticking away in my cluttered space,

a chipped wall clock, with numbers that race.

Each second slips past like sand in a sieve,

a reminder that time holds a weight we can't give.

Staring at hands that refuse to move fast,

while nights blend to days, the moments amassed.

Deadlines linger like shadows at dusk,

mocking me softly, a flickering husk.

In this mundane battle of hours lost,

I watch as the clock counts the cost of the frost.

Each tick a heartbeat, unkind yet sincere,

reminding me gently of all I hold dear.