The Clock Has Stopped Ticking.
The clock has stopped ticking it's time for the eternal sleep, mind is Unchained, your turn for some restful peace.
Destination unknown, do you qualify for heaven, meet the tall man dressed in white will he cleanse your sins.
Or maybe you qualify for the darkened dungeons of hell, meet the tall man in black who will keep you under his spell.
Being carried by strangers in your cheap wooden box, to be lowered into the freshly dug plot.
Your children looking on with fake tears in their eyes, carrying on the illusion they care just another page in the book of lies.
Call out to the devil, look out one box coming down, you become just another old man left to rot in the ground.
Covered in earth no one would ever know you are there, no sign at all that anyone is missing you or even ever cared.
No headstone, nameplate or even a cheap bunch of flowers, just a few holes where the worms have started to burrow.
As in life, in death you were abandoned and quickly forgotten, no one claims that you were once close and important to them.
It is if you lived your life as an invisible human being, making no difference to anyone if you were dead or living.
At least now you are at peace in your unmarked grave, unto the demons in your head you will no longer be a slave.
Whether you get selected for heaven or hell, I know you will have one hell of a story to tell.
Tobani
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Author:
Tobani / Nataiella (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 13th, 2025 05:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 28
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, NinjaGirl, Cheeky Missy
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Comments10
A great reverse metaphor in my mind. It is the trip not the destination for me. Very nicely written my friend
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Heaven and hell could remind us that our choices shape our fate. One day, time will stop. This poem reminds us to cherish every second🙏
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Profound, deep, dark and fun. That is how I would describe this. This, my friend, is a raw and unflinching look at death, legacy, and the human condition and you challenge readers to consider their own mortality and the impact they might leave behind, if any. The cynicism is my home and, truthfully, the ending was killer! Loved this my friend. An easy fave! ❤️🙏🌹👏
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I don't know if the demons in our head will die when we do, I often wonder: if we reach the depths of hell, is our pain going to come from burning or from the torture of our minds? "They say you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, when somebody says your name for the last time." For some of us, that happens at the same time.
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Nobody really knows ahead of time but it's comforting to believe that we all qualify for heaven. When the time comes we'll find out if this is hard fact or just wishful thinking. Good writeT/N.
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Powerful.
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You know my wonted assessment, yet the haunting poignancy of this particular number grapples with me every single time I read it, initially dredging up my late father's burial, albeit it was not at all similar and we kids still regret things and wish we'd a second chance with him, nor is it like he never lived since so much of what each of us are is Dad, and Mom. Excellently rendered with superb imagery and a lingering, killer poignancy. Thank you for sharing.
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Excellent write
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You're welcome
I know that my wife who died 5 years ago is waiting in heaven for me Tobani.
Andy
That is really nice to hear that one day you will be reunited , enjoy the rest of your day
Deep and dark prose. Perhaps it was not his fault. The demons that chase us each and every one. Come from our own deep, dark soul.
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