I am clinging to the secondhand
Hoping against hope
I manage to stay like this forever
but sure enough when the clock strikes 12
hour and minute are at odds with one another
yet both unite to topple private enemy number 1 (notice that the two is gone)
striking me off from the face of history
unwinding all future memories
Big brother Ben sounds somewhat severely austere today
as he admonishes me for the very last last time
falling I wonder if the monolith will spin around
display one last minute act of centripetal force
sending me flying towards the moon at a right angle
if only to collide with shooting stars
YOU ARE READING
Blank Canvas
PoetryYou'll see soon enough. Please note that..if something is dedicated to you..it does not necessarily mean that the piece is about you..... "The true identity of happiness is pain." "Tragic is my kind of magic."
