Mina writes poetry #8

Breathing In Time I can feel a string pulling me in a display case someone built for me. I'm youthful here forever and with that comes beauty and impurity. Dancing in my heart a clock ticks to the same beat. Each beat is a second on the clock and every second the clock beats faster. I dance in excitement over this clock echoeing in my vacant head. Everything had moved from my limbs, all the blood pumping to and back to my heart. The repeated rhythm goes faster. And for that, a heart becomes fragile. Smother it in something too sweet and it spoils. Pour salt over it and it burns, yet is preserved for a long, long time. But the thing about time, you know, is that the further you go along it get's faster. It get's faster...and faster...and faster until it stops. The noise is grating. Like an orchestra of alarms throwing themselves at me. Echoeing in my head louder and louder until it pops. I can feel the tendrils of my heart, bursting with every tick of the clock. The cogs spin and spin and every second my heart beats again. It beats for many, but mainly for one. And in this display, one that's meant to be sacred. A place most people aren't allowed to be. A place I let you in for free. A place most can't even fathom without a fee. One that's worth a fortune of every hour of knowing. Every second I waist, I lose value in myself. Because I'm waisting this sacred time on you.