Forward

Two hands and one face

are all that are necessary to bind me.

The metal appendages wrap around my arms

and my neck

like a noose.

It dictates

Everything.

The steady rising and setting sun,

constant creation and destruction,

the cycle of life turning with it

every hour.

 

Why only 24 in a day?

Perhaps 30 would

allow me to finish creating my concerto,

or write my research paper,

or study just a little longer,

or get a healthy amount of sleep,

or spend time with friends and family,

or notice the graceful trill

of the bird who works unnoticed, intertwining twigs for its own Creation:

Home… Life…

But who gets rewarded for watching the birds?

Not me.

I just sit here listening

to the second hand monotonously tick

while I complete my next homework assignment.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741