Succumbing to grief leads to the shattering of time

a poem

Photo by on

A hot cast iron branded my soul with Death’s grip
An hourglass falls shattering into shards
with the sand inside of it turning into splinters
You feel them pierce into your skin sinking deeper
into your flesh grinding you into dust

The hourglass reforms itself like time being fast-forward in a film
But now you are the dust inside the hourglass
There is no way out for you to escape
No hands to break it apart
A body of dust and sand

You’ve become lost in time and are no longer present in any reality
Just waiting for someone to flip you over to start
over the monotony of what is your Life now
A real-life Groundhog Day because you
succumbed to your grief

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What was lost

Obsession is (him)