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A Clicking Tock

A night, again, in waking sleep,
Unuttered words that write the wall
From depths of darkness figures creep
Beneath the million fathom fall

Unspeakable the dreams that fright
The squinted eyes belie the wake
Beneath the sheets to flee the fight
And unformed lies the voices make

A promise, bargain, deal to death
Felled on ears that will deny
Ushered to betray in breath
The truth that sleep is but a lie

In the day's too honest light
The facts that once obscured are bare
The fears evaded in the night
Remain and quest the soul to tear

A wish, once made, can only die
The worst of all desires untold
Anything that grows to try
Will wither in the winter's cold

The waking brings the banishment
The sleeping can't afford
But the whisper's vanishment
Undone by will's accord

Though too sweet the words once spun
And the price too great to say
Life's a game not easily won
Until the dice are pushed away

A night, again, in waking sleep,
Forgotten words exposed to swear
The oath he claims to wholly keep
In the Game, there's no unfair

Be it love, or hope, or lust
That drives the mind to needs of want
So badly that one would entrust
Such evil with the heart's one haunt

Impossible, the logic cries
The truest evil's mind of man
Projecting traits we so despise
Is but the brain's indulgent plan

Impossible, the hearts dictates
And truly wrong, but be it so
Then what's the price? The soul berrates
For the secrets heart does stow?

Unsleeping, there the one returns
Whose promises resound through thought
And name and words to flesh he burns
So that his offer not be forgot

If but a touch of the mad exists
What matter is there of spreading the rot
When a ticking clock is what resists
The tithe is hardly worth the thought

In another night of waking daze
To make one last oath he may,
"Just sacrifice your mind to craze,
And I will take your pain away"

The deal once struck cannot revoke
The sacrifice is in the smile
Delivery of pays bespoke
Cements access to freely while

With every day, the sleeping's less
And words will flow from wall to hand
Building to the mind's egress
The hourglass killing shards of sand

When the time is run and no hours will flow
He will come to me to find
To the madness I will gladly go
For unto him I sold my mind.
Written by Marchioness
Published
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