The Clock

It mocks me...
I futilely stare at the clock everyday. I force all of my will into it, urging it on, but still it mocks me, unwaivered. It's measured beats never stray--one second, one minute, one hour, everyday the same. I loath it's steadfast demeanor. Tirelessly ticking, unrelenting, the surest fixture of my day is that damnable ticking of the clock. It mocks me. It's what binds me to this chair, controls my every move. It knows, and it laughs at me as I stare at it, face to face counting the seconds. There's nothing I can do. For where there's one, there's another, and another. There is no escape. It mocks us...