Sunday, July 19, 2009

It


Every time I open my eyes it is there. Waiting me. Somehow staring at me. Making me wonder why I give it so much power. Way before the time it seems to mock me, to tease me, leaving me tired of this everlasting game. Every time, every day. My days begin and end with its orders, taking it with grudgingly respect. It knows when and I know what and it is difficult to argue with the power of this union, but nevertheless I am resentful of its power over me. I look again and it says is late, but I turn my back to it. It can click the minutes, ring the hours, sound the alarm, I don’t care.
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