Madness
By The Midnight Poet, Seregil

The clock strikes one, thirteen hours past noon,
The night's almost done, morning will come soon,
Still I sit here awake, tired and much alone,
And nothing I can take, stops the monotonous drone of the clock,
Tick.. Tock.. Tick.. Tock..

How long since I've slept, two days maybe three,
Yet the time is still kept, and it's all I can see,
The beat of my own heart, seems to fall into pace,
With the one moving part, on the emotionless face of the clock,
Tick... Tock... Tick... Tock...

It echoes in my head, as I stare at the ceiling,
Lying in my bed, I can't shake the feeling,
That I'll never escape, what's soothing to some,
In the hideous shape, and unnerving drum of the clock,
Tick.... Tock.... Tick.... Tock....

The walls they draw near, the room's height seems lower,
As I hold back the fear, and the time drags yet slower,
With a bark in the distance, I just don't understand,
The damn mutt's insistence, in keeping time with the hand of the clock,
Tick..... Tock..... Tick..... Tock.....

How long must I live, with this perpetual torment,
What I wouldn't give, to release what lies dormant,
In the back of my mind, that causes these fears,
To slowly unwind, with the dull metal gears of the clock

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Sarapin, in the year 352 AF.