Tick Tock

The unsuspecting writer 

With hands tied to the chair, 

Her mind wandering aimlessly, 

Shifting through borrowed time 

As the hands on the clock scream in disbelief. 

Shallow are the words escaping from her lips, 

Their fiery undertones 

Piercing through the drywall, 

The search for perfection lost to every tick tock tick. 

Another painful reminder 

That the gift she has been given is not for the weak. 

Disturbances in the brain 

Opening doors that should never be opened, 

Constructing that which will never truly be seen 

In the same light by which it was created.-