Time Passing-Poetic Stories

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Poetic nothingness-Stilled Time

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.

Thursday, Friday, Saturday.

Sunday.

Time passed in slow motion.

Every day was the same.

Milliseconds turned into seconds which turned into minutes and minutes into hours.

But everything stayed the same.

There was never any change.

Time ticked on, the sound loud in the silence of the day.

Tick, Tock. Tick, Tock.

Tick, Tock.

The world continued turning around its star, never breaking stride.

It was like this day after day.

Never slower, never faster. Just… the same.

It was never going to change. Not now, not ever.

It felt like a prison.

A prison that cannot be undone, forever in its Hell.

A Hell produced by…Me.

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