While trying to keep up with the ticking hands, I have left so much baggage behind. Probably, it was never needed but every now and then, like teeny tiny time machines, little blasts from the pasts, flash before my possibly blinding eyes. Watching from a distance was becoming boring and my calf muscles forever complaining for some exercise. Without a thought, just like that, I am now running along side with them. I didn’t belong, I still don’t.  Probably. And maybe it’s just on the outside it is me as them, on the inside, I mock what have now become, my foolish ways. Somehow, it’s all better this way. If the pretty white doves are mine now, I wouldn’t know, for sometimes, I still sit up and hope with my all might that this clock would somehow stop ticking. A thought that must must not be voiced for so many reasons. He screams when I do. Nerds that once rocked had met my lips, now, it’s all brinjals. I used to be pretty, now, I am all ugly. I can not lie, not on a piece of paper, there is NO guilt. Why? It IS wrong.

That monster, who I’d sit and watch is now becoming me. Oh! Mirror mirror on the wall, who is it that speaks to me from within you. All those screams, oh! so faint, what do they say? Oh! The pain clouds his face again. And the same old promise that is broken each day is made, once again. A stale beginning has been anchored to the very same point. How can it all be so different and yet feel so familiar?

After all that I have done, why do I still dream of swimming in murky waters? Where does it all end? Why doesn’t it all end?

A change in that punctuation mark, is it asking too much?