Countdown in the Dark

The still clock ticks alive again, Its tick revives a hidden breath. I claw each fragment of hushed voice, Gathering shards with sharpened will. Even broken feelings hold a tone, If a clear sound can still remain, Let my bursting heart intone— Sing out, break loose the pain. The countdown never stops its call, Each second fuels a burning beat. The urge to scream shatters my fall, No restart, no retreat. Though I may falter or stumble, If my voice can reach one soul, I’ll tear through darkness, humble— The countdown keeps control. The dream-map I once drew so clear, Though torn, its lines I trace anew. Even if they call me insincere, I leave my mark, a scar so true. Like a rolling stone, my wounds run deep, The pain proclaims the life I feel. Tonight my cry will never sleep— My scream is raw, and real. The countdown speeds, it won’t abide, Even as I fight to slow its pace. My flawed path rides the rising tide, Embracing strength with grace. Though timid, still I stand secure, If my voice flies far and wide, I’ll break the dark with truth so pure— The countdown is my guide. Past lost nights, a dawn appears, Morning hues beckon me on. My beating heart calms its fears— “Not over,” sings my song. The countdown echoes fierce and loud, Every tick ignites a flame. The urge to shout disperses the cloud, No more will I conceal my name. Clumsy or frail, I hold my ground, Hoping my cry can save a soul; I break the silence with resound— The countdown makes me whole. As echoes fade into the night, A soft glow lingers on. In the quiet of waning light, Hope awakens with the dawn. The countdown slows to a whisper, Yet its promise still lives strong, A final note—a lasting murmur, Carrying us long after song.