ticking

the insistence of this ticking,
the telling of fact-
time is really all I have;
confused about whether this comforts, or disturbs
me.

falling on to my knees,
unsure of why-
limbs folded awkwardly;
taught of the peace provided, although not to
me.

arms outstretched I call,
'come save me'-
for someone is out there;
up there - somewhere - or what would the purpose be, of
me.

acidic tears streaming,
a burning single stream-
I seek only light;
at night I lay alone, enveloping darkness only seeking
me.

attempts to block it out,
the anxious ticking clock-
I cannot be late;
I am on my knees, my head down, for salvation to find also
me.

but the ticking remains,
so I cannot find peace-
not in such desperation;
wishing to leave, for if it is mine, surely it can come to find
me.

seeking forgiveness from them,
seeming to be futile-
their unrest unnerves me;
they have received the water, yet more stained are they than
me.

knowing not my purpose,
I can only but live-
hoping for meaning to come;
for I cannot find meaning, and the ticking silence- it distracts
me.