The endless sound, tick tock, tick tock
persistently filling the mind,
the beating of your own life’s clock,
a constant grind.
No chance to stop the hands of time
each minute cuts you like a knife,
it seems that life’s an endless climb
and mortal strife.
Each tick a step toward your death,
each tock will feed upon your soul,
they strip you of the vital breath
that makes you whole.
Your thoughts and deeds are ruled by time,
the constant stream of sands run down,
too soon your life is past it’s prime,
you wear a frown.
Enjoyment of your life’s a must
for seconds will soon pass you by,
your memories soon turn to dust
and then you die!
Gold trophy winner
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