Tick Tock

This quiet night, full of nothing,
This empty bottle, that once had something,
These thoughts, which fill the mind and haunt the soul,
These feelings, which bind and take control,
These memories, that never fade, never break,
This is all the past, that which future will take,
Each day, each hour, each minute and second,
Each passing tick, is a tock to be reckoned,
Each passing moment, is a now gone then,
Each chance, opportunity in a distant when,
Let it wash, let it consume, let it take over,
If you can't live now, how can you have closure?
If every now is spent thinking about then,
Every empty bottle is an empty bottle again,
See through the glass, not the reflection so cryptic,
and you will see every tock is passed by another tick.