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A Promise

A Clock I draw from,
with no surplus of Time.
I must reconcile the fact,
that until now;
I’ve been in full black and white.
 
Mute, trying to describe,
the pictures;
Hanging on my inside.
 
Pictures of Love and Death,
and a warm up in every breath;
Getting ready for,
The Stop Watch.
 
When it is pushed,
I will be in full color;
Entirely ready.
 
So I keep Time,
by writing on the bathroom glass.
Little messages of hopes happiness,
and the things that make us strive for it all;
Always.
 
Then there is the Hour glass.
It’s soft grains;
Striking me like hammers.
 
How else can I relay?....
In truth spoken screams.
Dragging down to a dead center,
the fact laid pointing in my direction.
 
Straight down to the number Six.
Settling on the measure Six.
None on the Clock, lower than the Six.
 
So swing wildly until you are stilled.
Lose your momentum; Steadily.
Come to rest on the bottom;
Hold,
Hold,
Hold.
 
These hands will catch up with you;
I promise you.

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