Time Really Grinds My Gears

The thing that really makes me tick is the continuous
clock's hands beating to the rhythm of time, and I just wanna scream
because time is nothing nothing nothing compared to what we've
got locked away inside of our veins. Haven't you heard what it means
to grow inward instead of outward? It's blooming but only letting
your body know you're becoming you more and more.

My mom pushes me out the door calling us late and she sighs
but I'm telling her to think ahead, that time is just a concept
and she tells me I'm still a silly child okay with being twenty
minutes behind the schedule.

I looked at the stars and they never have a time when they die,
and I realize we don't either, but we rarely see us shine like
the nightsky. The lighthouses in the universe say hello and
forget to turn off their nightlight when it's time. They're the
lamps that refuse to say goodbye before their time.

Why aren't we more like stars?

You wanna know what pushes my buttons, tears
my mind to pieces, makes me want to pull my hair out and
scream at the world?

The fact that we are prisoners to the ticking time bomb
around our wrists, above our bookshelves, on the bottom
of our computer screens and on the top of our phones
really grinds my gears;
we do not know the definition of living without
restraints.

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