All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Tick Tock Goes the Clock
My clock is posed haughtily.
His face upturned in mockery
whispering obnoxiously:
“Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock”
I sit there dazed;
idle gazed;
face unfazed;
eyes are glazed,
lost within the twisting maze
of fear,
of tears,
of doubt,
of hope,
to cope
with my racecar mind
with a million thoughts at a time…
Time!
What time is it?
I have much to do.
And suddenly it seems
like invisible hands
are pouring
fear; foul fright
over my chocolate chest.
As it softens the shell
of my glistening spark,
and burns through the hollow spot
that holds my fragile heart
door unlocked,
foul rain is
pouring down,
It pricks my spark,
I spiral down
Spiraling senseless
in endless abundance
Leg bobbing; heart pulsing
Teeth grating; breath shaking
Knuckles cracking; voices cackling!
Wait!
What about that single mother
who rented a stale room upstate?
With mustard stained halls;
with rodents in the walls.
Kids run to school
in their sunken, shabby shoes.
She can barely pay her rent,
And she’s tired
And she’s hungry
And she’s angry
And she’s lonely
But she doesn’t wallow in self-pity
I’m privileged so my problems
don’t have any validity.
“Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock”
Nonetheless
I have much to do,
so I sit here in my stagnant stress,
wondering if I’ll get through
I wrote this poem to communicate my constant dread of running out of time. It was almost a form of therapy for me. I hope this helps anyone who can relate.