The room goes silent, and the quiet ticking is all you can hear, droning on and on,
getting ever so louder in your ears.
Following the sound to its source, you see the hands,
moving slower and slower the more you stare, right into the face of time itself.
You snap back to reality, and jump back into your constant rush,
trying to keep time from catching up with you.
Time, with its shiny face and ticking hands, is always coming after you, but never far behind.