The sting of midnight
Pierced my heart.
When had time turned
Against my mortal soul?
At what point had I moved
From a believer to a cynic
And then back again?
Why must my conscious
Deceive my manipulating ego?
The hands of the clock
Turned to face me, palms up
And then slapped my shocked cheeks
So hard
It shook my disbelieving countenance.
Time, you are my double-crossing savior.
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