Steady Pulse

The clock ticks loud in the hush of night,

its hands crawl slow, a weight pressing in.

Time stretches thin, then holds me tight,

each second whispers where I’ve been.

In the silence, thoughts tangle and churn,

it’s strange how the simplest things take hold,

a rhythm that pulls, I yearn and yearn,

like a tendril of doubt, pulling bold.

Each tick wraps around my restless mind,

steady and certain, yet jagged in song,

some nights I wish I could just unwind,

but here I sit, where the echoes throng.