Everyday the clock was there
Just there, for everyone to feel
The passing and anticipation of time

Everyday the clock encountered billions of souls
Of tired ones who anxiously contemplated
The passing of time
Mother’s weeping and waiting for their sons
To return home after adulting
Blue collars waiting for the paycheck
And a sense of purpose

Everyday the clock was just there
For everyone to see
And no one ever saw
Or realized

With the passing of time
The clock’s ticking slowed down
Slower, slower and slower
Until one day
Nobody noticed its last ticking

Everyday the same routine
Of serving others tirelessly
From as early as possible
Until the last hour of the night

The last pair of batteries were reaching its end
But no one thought to help the helpful clock
“It’s just a clock, we can get a new one”

Yes, it’s just a clock after all
It was there for your birthdays
And wedding, and funerals
Let’s get another one

Unwillingly, I became the clock
I stopped at the station
Stared at it for too long
Saw it cry when no one else did
And when I tried to replace its batteries
I became the clock myself
Trapped in the same mundane routine

(c) F. BaliĀ 

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