The Hands That Mark Time

The hands on the clock tick non-stop taking away,
Marking endless time mindless of my existence, 
And still my soul does not see the light of day, 
Will there be glimmer of hope for my resistance? 
Here, 
Take the memory of me, of pain of love and flee, 
Free of guilt and shadows from my hollow heart, 
See the pain you’ve caused that goes beyond, 
Then tell me how to cope so I won’t fall apart. 
Still the clock slowly ticks away into another day, 
Without care or caution thrown into the wind, 
My happiness dangles loose from your noose, 
But still you won’t look back much to my chagrin. 
So I just watch the hands on the clock tic toc, 
Non-stop until the sun drops and comes up again, 
Falling in these black days, through a dark phase, 
But my fucking hands won’t stop when I say when.