The Clock

There’s a heart that beats

and a clock that chimes

Moments pass

as they both keep time

Opportunities

lost again

Words don’t flow

from an idle pen

Deeds don’t come

from an idle hand

Seeds won’t grow

in a barren land

Something stalks me

Something’s there

Something haunts

my every prayer

Aggravation

Life slips by

Desperation

Sleepless nights

Cold against

the words I say

Time won’t make

this go away

It merely ticks

to count the deeds

Mounting numbers

don’t mislead

They all add up

to tell the tale

of downward slide

towards the hell

That I’ve created

Idle hands

Not but dust

on barren land

Depicts the seeds

that I have sown

And with this pen

I’m left alone

In idle silence

Years go by...

As the heart beats on

and the clock keeps time.