Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
There's a ticking all around.
Like time is closing in.
And all that's left to say is stuck somewhere deep within.
All it wants is to be heard. Not felt. Nor understood.
It resonates around, engulfing all it chances upon.
Its clear and even tones, devoid of all harmony.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
This ticking, so pronounced, is from within.
Its hollowness is a reflection of what's beneath the surface.
This ticking is a struggle, to say what is hidden.
It's resonance, a secret, that shall always be lodged.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
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