Clock Tower

In your clock tower 
you discern me waiting
but your view of me 
is quite fallacious.

I can hear the sound 
of the clock ticking,
yet I cannot see it's face 
just as I cannot see your form. 

I can hear your voice coming from the tower,
it is so strangely compelling, 
but I cannot interpret your pretty words
so I desperately try to find a way out of my enclosed mind.

As I begin to climb the walls of the tower 
the ticking sound wanes
and the face of the clock becomes visible.

The face of the clock is grim and veridical,
but I do not turn my head, 
I cannot turn my head back to what I once saw.

I find myself not wanting to climb anymore 
but I can feel something hauling me up.
In my confusion I attempt to let go 
but my hands now only recognise the tower.

So I reach the clock face 
and find that the hands are now frozen,
all I can see in my ardour in vain and nothing more.

You are no longer here,
you are no longer watching, 
and time is no longer passing.

I can now see nothing but the clock face.
I now find that I can no longer move, 
I now find that I can no longer feel,
and I can never dream of you again.