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I stare at the clock, despondently. Ever so intima

I stare at the clock, despondently. Ever so intimated, by all that it represents. Ticking away, brutally so. Or not ticking at all, ruthlessly so. It ticks and it tocks. It runs and it walks. What I can never fathom though, is how Time poses a new question with its every tick, whilst knowing it is the very answer. Time. Every tick, a rhetoric. Every tock, a deadlock. You and I may have tricks up our sleeves. But not enough ticks. Through the clock, it ticks. Through this poem, it talks. Tick Talk. #time #ticktock #tiktok
I stare at the clock, despondently. Ever so intimated, by all that it represents. Ticking away, brutally so. Or not ticking at all, ruthlessly so. It ticks and it tocks. It runs and it walks. What I can never fathom though, is how Time poses a new question with its every tick, whilst knowing it is the very answer. Time. Every tick, a rhetoric. Every tock, a deadlock. You and I may have tricks up our sleeves. But not enough ticks. Through the clock, it ticks. Through this poem, it talks. Tick Talk. #time #ticktock #tiktok
bharathnandibhat2540

Bharath Nandibhatla

New Creator