Dear Mr. Time
The clock is ticking
And the time is going ever so slowly.
Just when I thought it was finally over,
The clock ticked again.
Why me?
Why do you torture me like this Mr. Time?
Making me sit here watching you go on forever.
Oh, when will you stop?
When will the hands of my clock drop their beat?
When will you give me a minute of silence?
Please stop!
Don't you see I'm trying to rest my eyes?
And just when I though it was all over,
When I finally believed your battery had run low,
You ticked again.
But why me Mr. Time?
Oh, why won't you let me rest my eyes?
Comments
That wrinkled old bastard , he was there from the beginning 😉
You captured the essence of time and the horror of depression very well 👏👏👏👏👏
Thank you very much :)
Brilliant, such an interesting way to describe some of the most challenging aspects of depression
Lorna :)