I Still Think the Clock is My Friend

You ineffectual bastard. You threw your tongue to the pavement; You flung your voice to the wind, You turned your back And pretended you still had them, Again.

You continue walking in your silence; And flinch at others' sounds. You stare into the face of the clock, And mourn the seconds ticking by.

Is the quiet comforting?

You cower from the world around, Even when you're alone, Grieving for things that never happened, Grieving for things that never will.

You've learned to forget reality, But you can't forget your fear:

The whispers you see in stranger's eyes, That hang in the air, But never existed.

The shadow you saw across your window, Even though, The curtains are shut.

Do you ever save your dreams for sleep?

You look yourself in the mirror, You plead for just a little more time, But even if Your reflection could grant a wish, It couldn't give you anything; You ran out of time long ago.

And look, You're still alone.

You're guilty of more Than wasting time, You're guilty of more Than indecision. But really,

Just what are you guilty for?