The clock stopped
I hadn’t noticed
In my days trapped in this cell
I didn’t know of the privilege it was
to have a clock that ticked
Eternity in solitude
why did I have a clock to begin with?
Was every cell like mine?
I rocked back and fourth
cold light filtered through my bared window
Sun light only served to tease my senses
Why was this window here?
I lie–numb–on the concrete floor
I hear voices–not of my own
Calling to me but I didn’t feel like talking
And yet they felt the need to speak to me
Scream at me and insult me
That’s when I realized there wasn’t a constant ‘tic’
I had devoured the kindness of my clock
And now I’m left with voices and a bared window
Sorry, dear clock of mine