Reverse the Clock

I was born on the stroke of luck, chiming madly reversing the clock.

Every second I’ve spent on this earth has been counting down, to the end of the curse.

Born blind, and stolen from the womb.

Crawling around, searching for glass lenses in puddles on the ground.

Rising graceful, strong, full of vigor.

All their burdens laden upon my yoke.

I always saw the imbalance incoming.

Choosing the exact placement of every new demand tossed upon me.

Working hard for the family, not dirty money.

Making nary a dime, not to worry, there is always more time…

Every impediment added to the mix only seemed to further impress.

Throwing the ropes, lashing me down, to inspect the unusual amount of power I possess.

The larger I grew, and faster I ran, the closer they got, the weaker I became.

Acquiring knowledge, the delusion of option.

The more wrong I knew they were, the more walls I found myself enclosed within.

Every attempted escape just a time wasting exercise in futility.

Is there a way to get it back, recapture the hours stolen from my glass?

It would seem not.

To reverse the clock would mean erasing all thought.

Every good I have imagined or managed to enact upon this thoughtless planet.

Would I sweep it all away? Die to erase the pain today?

Oblivion would be the only way.

The clock reversed the very day I came into existence.

I have to say no, I will carry on with my countdown to one.

Day in day out till my strenuous path is adequately run.

It may be, that none of my hard work is ever seen, but at least I will have seen it complete.

K.B. Silver