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Poem of the Breakfast Quiet Time

My heart ticks with my bedside clock,

The two friends keep in time;

I watch my own chest rise and fall

And my mind sits, maligned;

I’m asked each day how I am doing,

And never tell the truth;

One’s own burdens can’t a find place

Of comfort amidst youth;

I’m too young to be tired!

Oh, I wish that this was true;

And yet there is a medicine

for all ailment, but you;

You imbed yourself inside my heart;

Why do you hold so tight?

You grip me in a manic way,

Si I can’t fix this plight;

Perhaps it is me, all this time,

Who can’t seem to let go;

Just like the rhythm in my bedside clock,

Which I turned off hours ago.

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