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The Alarm Clock



I am a clenched fist, nails embedded

I am a portent, long been dreaded

I am a nightmare, dark, recurring

An obtuse veil, your vision blurring

I am the knock you have been fearing

Late at your door, just out of hearing

Increases to a frenzied pounding

You can’t drown out this ceaseless hounding

You feel your heart beat out your chest

Your peace of mind, from you I’ve wrest

I am the Reaper, not seen coming

Incessant noise of fingers drumming

A ticking clock that soon will chime

Those clanging gongs ring “It’s your time!”

There’s nothing worse than being roused

By aggravating blare that’s housed

A form of torture that you’ve set

But in your dreams you soon forget

From soothing sleep you have been torn

When alarm clock shrieks, it’s workday morn…

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