The clock

I sit at my desk, watching the time. Watching the clock, oh that wretched clock. Time feels slow as it goes past, minutes fade into hours, hours into days. Soon it all becomes a blur, the sound of the ticking engrained in my memory like a sour taste on my tongue. As I sit I wonder, is this really how life goes? is this how it all will end? days long gone, fading into the background of the gray scenery. As time passes with each tick of that wretched clock, I grow older. I grow weaker. But time must pass, we all must age, theres no denying the change of age. But in the scene of storm clouds and people growing more miserable with each passing day, there is a light. A light that leads you on to keep trying. To keep going. It urges us to follow it's winding path into tomorrow. But as the light fades into the darkness, we continue the same cycle. The cycle of life, The cycle that goes on and on until time itself is no more. When there are no more ticks, of that wretched clock.