Under the broad daylight, I stared with longing eyes
Waiting for my turn to be loved, waiting for them to hear my cries
Two times the clock ticks twelve, two times hope kills itself
Only to be awaken with a constant lie, that in the end the reward is worth the cry

How many times should I call for help? How many times should I bleed to death?
As the sun goes down, I turn silent and I turn away
I’m turning hopeless again and again, back to zero I could not pretend
Why must we suffer, why must we hurt ourselves?

Came the storm, the hurricane and the flood, all were of my tears and some were of my blood
I think that’s how the flowers die, somehow the cloud could no longer cry
I waited in vain for the famous rainbow, in which they say comes out after every sorrow
Days, months and years have passed. As the sun sets, I thought; this might be the last.

The rope has worn out in years, drenched and dried in selfless tears
The rope has finally neared its end, with cuts and callouses I can no longer tend
Is this the end, is this goodbye? When gone are the days I used to try
Try to forgive and try to survive, when the ticking of the clock is eating me alive

I’ve been to the broken, the hopeless and the gone
And I ask myself, where do I belong?
As the night fell, who knows if soon will I?
Did I deserve this? Am I worthy to know why?

The door gave way to the rush of familiar faces, tick tock tick tock into my mind’s darkest recesses
I settled down, forced a smile. Yet again, I wonder why; nobody ever noticed the pain in my eyes?
Now, I don’t know if this is right or wrong. I have been in this state far too long.
And as the clock ticked twelve, when shall my madness end?

2 thoughts on “Twelve

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