The clock is watching me. It judges me, in everything I do. It torments me with every tick, it taunts with each tock. It reminds me only that I have a limited time here, and it is pleased with my discomfort. It is arbitrary. It moves when it likes, stops when it wants to. It drags its weary feet as I toil, and skips daintily while I sleep. Yet I obey its every command, coming and going in accordance with its wishes, waking when it tells me to, sleeping when it demands it of me. The clock? The clock is merely an assemblance of mechanical bits, the clock does not torment me. I blame the clock, but it is time itself which aggravates me so. Time struts across my heavy heart, it kicks my soul with every step, and someday it shall dance upon my cold, barren grave. But until then, I will snub my nose at time, for it has no longer has a power over me.
posted by 123454321 at 5:04 PM