Daunting at best.
Its echo all round, numbing my ears.
Ticking-Tock.
Over and over again.
Call it a different name; it doesn’t change, of what it is by size or color.
Controlling something can’t be framed.
But there is it.
Going and going, tick-tick-tick.
Bell chimes blood jumping.
Where it is, I would never go near it.
If found in a room, car, picture, a show of any kind.
I will venture fall away from it.
Others say it’s harmless.
Is it?
Is it really all that harmless?
Ticking away.
Reminding what can be stop of the before and after.
A toll it is on the body, all can’t seem to understand.
It can be control, looking at it proves it.
I refuse to do so.
They’ll never be part of my life.
Control is all it gives.
Say whatever is within the face, but it changes nothing of what is being overlooked.
Control.
Control.
That’s all.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
Going and going . . . never were changing that one lone fact.
Block it out.
Block it out.
Numb that chime.
Numb it!

 

 

 

Chronomentrophobia

Fear of Clocks

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