Against the Clock

Time goes so fast. It orbits my energy pace and may yet accuse me for putting the blame on lucky stars and asking people to have all the time in the world for me. There isn’t so much to tell. I assure you in the name of those who forget to have their priorities set above the water. Don’t ask me what it was, or what it is – it won’t make sense anyway. The way the clock keeps tick-tock-ing echoes all over this empty house, the light that peeks through the curtains makes it obvious for me to slowly pull the sheets over my head and the name my parents would yell off at the top of their lungs – oh, I just figure it out, this house is never empty. It just sounds empty. It seems empty. Somehow I wake up and find myself conquering my mind barely taking off the seat belt that is supposed to secure my sanity.

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Published by

Izzatul Irdina

Not so basic, fragile, homeless.

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