The ticking clock is a funny thing
Engulfs your life bit by bit
Seals aching wounds, lends a helping hand
To forget that the heart was once hard-hit.
She had come to terms with cruelties
Nasty games played by fate on her
Yet some sadistic souls exist
Joy of others far from what they prefer.
They reopened her wound without thought
Planted a seed of false expectations
Her stable mind was racing now
An open invitation to unwanted fluctuations.
Baseless expectations resemble a burning candle
A source of light in a pitch dark room
The wax structure shall soon extinguish
Leaving behind daunting darkness and gloom.
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