poetry

Clock

The Squeal

Of the big wheel.

Turning faster and faster,

The pace is concerning.

You can feel the burn of learning,

Churning new thoughts,

Through your mind

As new chapters of life are performed.

Fall in line and become uniform,

Before you know it,

You will be torn.

On what to do,

As you reach the mid point,

Of this life.

Do you stay in line,

Where it is safe.

Or do you choose redesign?

Either way the clock does not stop,

I can hear life’s clock,

Calling out.

Tick Tock 

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