Time Ticking by.

Certain in silence as seconds tick by,

you stop to consider the weight they hold.

Each tick is time lost. The world’s growing cold.

The first, the second, and third, you just try

to warn us, the hopeless, we’re doomed to die.

But the fourth you realize, fate won’t remold.

No fleeing from what’s already foretold.

We’re left to wonder what’s in a goodbye.

The fifth is for our friends and family

We laugh, we cry, we refuse all goodbyes.

The sixth is for sorry apologies,

rid resentments before calamity

Seventh, some pray, sleep, and stare at the sky

Awaiting-- expecting-- the end foreseen.