two handed clock

like a double edged sword

the clock has two hands

one points towards freedom

the other towards the damned.

with each tick you gain knowledge,

maturity and skill

yet behind every new privilege

lurks a new threat.

with every memory made

an old one is lost,

death rusts your joints

and fills the cracks in your back

every common cold begins to reek of decay

mundane life runs the risk

of imprisoning you in a world of white walls

alone in a nursing home

because you can no longer be trusted

to have the independence

that you longed for

in your youth.

every clock

has two hands:

one is a key to unlock your cell

and the other is a door

to a new kind of prison.