The Clock Is Ticking


On the wings of a butterfly, will you fly me away?
Back home to you, where I promise I’ll stay.
I know it is hard, but please understand,
I can’t go on living, upon this cold land.

Something is wrong here, something’s not right.
I walk past the people, and they seem very trite.
Yet they laugh, and they whisper,
With their eyes of the night,
They’ll continue to live, never seeing the light.

What is it they see? I feel somewhat defaced.
That they can’t look upon me, with a smile on their face.
What’s wrong with me, Father, that I feel so displaced?
Why do they think, that I’m such a disgrace?

What can I do, Lord, to stop all this pain?
It was never my choice to walk down this lane.
I did not choose, you chose it for me.
You sent me down here, to help ease their pain.

But the looks on their faces, as they look down upon me.
Tell me I am unwanted, as they cease to see,
I hold the answers; I am the key.

I’ve never felt right; I’m still not accepted,
I held my hand out, but it was only rejected.
Forever they are lost, they go unprotected.

As I watch them walk past, that man on the street,
Not looking to see, he doesn’t have feet.
He holds out his cup, as I hear him say, ”please,”
But they try to avoid him, as though he’s diseased.

The children seem lost, with their looks of despair,
Where are their parents? Why don’t they care?
The children left crying, their hearts open and bare.
I gather them up, and we kneel down in prayer.

Father, why did you send me, to feel all this pain?
There’s nothing I can do, there’s too much disdain.
Soon they’ll be running, while they cry out in fear,
The clock is now ticking, their time coming, is near.

Septemberrose©
March 2004
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Art used with permission of
Isaura Simon

Music: "Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word"

Sequenced By Jack Hall
Used With Permission

Webmistress~LadyGayle