Tick Tick, Tock: Goes the Freedom Clock

by Lara Thorne

Will not my heart tick a timely beat?

It bloats and quickens, buoyonting,

bobbing just below the surface,

submerged in salty sea.


My heart is not held in a measure of time,

it seeks more than what I now do have,

with no recourse to opportunity or patience,

considering only and wholly it’s desires.


It cares not for a stable passage,

to be clasped close in a caring cage.

Rather it distorts my docile body,

and fills me with a rousing rage.


I cannot function without my heart,

go about my business day to day.

So I have to leave bobbing,

I can’t bear to take its buoyancy away.


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