I’m picking up the pieces left on tiles on the floor
pieces of the days before
that shattered with the pendulum.
Troubles seem to find me as I’m standing at the door
troubles of the days before
that worsened with the pendulum.
Everything was pleasant, mind you,
life was candy sweet.
The clock sped up the seconds, finding you
down off your feet.
“Get up!” says your mirror in a faded
blurred reflection.
“Stay down!” says the pendulum in
hostile interjections.
Clock is cold, clock is callous,
heinous hands are held.
Pendulum is worst of all,
a metronome from hell.
I am holding in my hands
the things I’m yet to lose.
I will keep them safe for now,
‘til time tells you the news.
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