Stephen Ferry- Time
She is here – always, but hidden to the young
A burden as you age, she shows you her many faces
Tick, tick, tick…
She is cold, her purpose relentless and unforgiving
Humble in her craft, her art goes unrecognized
Tick, tick, tick…
She is worshiped by some, loathed by more
A mother to all, never a friend or lover
Tick, tick, tick…
She had me run-down, trapped in slow motion
As I watched the rest of the world run manic
Tick, tick, tick…
I stumbled into next week, maybe a month, or even years
She spun me untethered, unhinged, unwound
Tick, tick, tick…
I didn’t recognise my face, so old and weathered
She has painted me white and grey
Tick, tick, tick…
I hear her calling, a voice too loud to ignore
She tolls the bell, A prophecy of my end to come
Tick, tick, tick…
She is the beginning, the end, and the forever
But I lived only a moment, my time has run out
Tic
ManicWorld Magazine 