Gazing at the ticking clock,
Seconds passing by,
In the blink of an eye,
The hands struck midnight,

Something feels off though,
The clocks hands seems stuck,
An eerie familiarity wanes over you,
Like a broken record, endlessly playing

Ankles heavy like stone,
Anchoring you to the wooden floor,
Despite despair, you muster the will
To lift your feet off the ground

As you plant your foot firmly,
The clock passes midnight,
It seems that moving on,
Freed you from the shackles of time.

© Forget Me Not