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Tick Tock Like ClockworkTick tock, like clockworkBeats my heart, heavy in my breastWhat is this impending sense of doom?Soon will it all be over?Chest so tight, I cannot breatheCannot grasp the meaningBehind this meaningless preludeI gasp at air, what should I do?And interlude, here is youHindering each precious secondFingernails digging inBlood trickling downmy neckLove so cruelThis is youTick tock, my heart is breakingFrom my chest,I am shakingI give my life upto youLiterallyI am in your handsLetting gowould mean the death of thisOf usBut holding onIs just the sameThis is our love, insaneRefrainYou're killing meInside out
What Lies in the Attic?In the darkness and the cobwebs lies a box. A plain worn slightly moldy brown cardboard box. Inside it's weak exterior perhaps magic can be found. If you dare to venture up the winding stair torch in hand you may find this box. And it's contents could all be yours.Squeak goes the metal stairs as you ascend, step by step as curious as a child about all the mysteries and memories you are about to uncover.Gasping for air, it's quite a way up. How can there even be this many stairs in your house, it's only a small house. You hear the whistling of wind trying to sneak through some unknown crack from outside.As you reach the top the roof to the ground, it's so short. So you kneel and crawl through, webs caressing you. Spiders seem to crawl all over your skin, creeping under your clothes. Carefully you move along afraid of the bite but too full of expectation to turn back.It's much too dark and the batteries of your torch are going flat, the whistling sound seems to have been coming from
Self rulingIn that morning hourI see the light risingFeel my skin warm gradualBut the tears keep fallingAs I look aroundI know it has been wastedAnd all that I have foundIs my inherentDishonestySpreading outThe wind brushesAgainst my skinBaredIt's not where I'm meant to beBut where I'm coming fromI do not heed the callThat rushes throughAnd echoesIn my tired brainAnd so I fallInto bitumen againThe times have become greyMoving so slowlyEverything passes by meI am still standing waitingI watch the blur of motionOf things coming and goingI feel the commotionBut it does not bother meNothing can reach meHere alone in myComplacencyFaces enter into my viewI hear the words their sayingBut do not understand the meaningThat in them they may holdI see the concerned expressionsAs sluggishly I move onPretending to be fascinatedBy this life so boldBut all that fills my mindBlurrs everything out of focusAnd my lips they close overThe words I once couldn't sayYour name
What is real?smash itslash it againt my skinthis thread of realityseems so thinstaring up at the skyi see it tearinglike pages from a bookit tears awayto the white nothingnessthat islies within