The empty space, staring her down

The Clock

Glaring at her, from behind.

Gone were the people

who could drown out the sound

She didn’t dare turn around.

 

Studying the wall, towering and creeping

keeping her mind, as loud as she could

Noticing the cracks and openings

Tracing back to its conjuring.

 

Glancing up at the, white round face

it’s black embellishments, sharp and pointy

running its red tongue

around, encompassing

clicking its teeth, with every second

Its eyes moving,

every hour and minute

 

She could hear it

Trying to block it out

the footsteps in the hall

the alarms in the next room

the voices, that carried, running

along the concrete walls

 

But it always comes back

to the Ticking

 

As waiting, has its own

Palpable

Sound