time and space ebb and flow
lapping at the shores of discontent on which you stride
nipping with bitter cold at your ankles
like a ticking clock rushing your existence
the blood pumps through your veins with a sounding song
"time's up, time's up, time's up, time's up"
the steel courses through your veins hardening the core of your being
consciousness repeating the whispers of the eternal night in which your purpose resides
the refreshing crispness that the darkness brings turns to ice
your finger tips freeze and your tung loses the ability to wet your lips
they crack under the pressure of society and your ears drums burst
the loud silence of disgust staring at you has killed all chance of hearing the light
the seagulls cry above you in the sky
you watch as their beaks open in communication and the silence fills you with dread
what is hope to an empty soul now?
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