Time

There are seconds
When the ticking from the clock on the wall
Drowns out the beating of your own heart

There are minutes
When the echoes of your past threaten to choke you
And fill you with a need to forget

There are hours
When the most you can do
Is trace the patterns on the floor with your eyes

There are days
When you wonder if you really are capable
Of existence

There are times
When the most you can hope for
Is hope

Author's Note

Critiques welcome.

Reviews

[Grant P.]

This is one of my favorite types of poems to write. Throughout the poem you go from just being seconds, to minutes, to hours and so on. Definitely a cool way of explain how time is perceived with our existence. Nice write.