Each tick bleeds away space,
Like colors off the canvas,
between footsteps on the face,
quietly interceding,
closing the gaps between dashes,
fleeting moments,
of a live not lived,
Blank memories float through void.
Noiseless in between,
Each tock, flying hands of finite,
Closing in on disrepair,
Dark structure of despair,
Mechanical lever beat,
Dictates existence with each repeat.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
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