Menacing hands


Each tick of the clock was a swing of an axe behind me and I felt the blade getting closer with every swing. The fear that the future will slam shut the doors and the past will finally clip my heels.

My belly spiralling from anxiety
My knees turning to butter
Begging to give in to gravity
Yet mind focused on running faster

The passage gets narrower and darker the further I get. Alas, my knees freeze and turn my legs to pillars, one final swish, I feel it’s breeze on the back of my neck.

In a spur of adrenaline and defiance, I turn around to stare into the turning hands of the clock. After all, that’s all it is right? Breeze

It’s face dimmed till it was one with the dark
Then I heard a tick tock, or maybe a shotgun cock
“This is it, surely it must be it,” I thought
So I sat on the floor and gathered my thoughts

From the abyss of its face dropped a white chalk, tick tock, tick tock.
I grabbed it calmly, tick tock, tick tock.
I wrote down my worries, wrote down my pains
As tick tock took a step back with every word

Tick….
Tock……
Ti………..

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