Teen Poetry Collections

Tick, Tick, Tick

 by a young woman at CSTC

The clock’s relentless mantra reminds me
that I don’t have time to consider the passing hours
that pile up on each other like slips of paper,
each delicately holding the name of a faded soul.

Who am I?
More importantly, who was I?  
I stand at the edge of a dock
watching the still silhouette of my past self
sinking into the endless abyss of human faults
and tears of lost lovers.
We can fill an ocean.

Tick, tick, tick.
It burns though the surface of my ears.
It’s practically shouting—stop sitting there
gawking at the never-ending spiral of judgement
and neglect we call society!
Get up there and do some… Tick, tick, tick.
It won’t finish, it’s beckoning.
Just say something.

How much time have I wasted?
I stand glued to the floor
as if roots were sprouting from my feet,
interlocking with the soil.
I wish I could feel the embrace that’s around me.
But for now, all I can feel, all I can hear is
tick, tick, tick.