How time works

Crippled with anxiety so I sit in this wheelchair below the clock on the wall.
This happens to be my favorite moment knowing that time heals all.

I'm forced to watch time and opportunity slowly pass me by.
A funeral is yet to come 'cos with time these memories will soon die.

Everybody has a body language but all mine translates to is pain.
Maybe I'm not fluent enough and thinking about it drives me insane.

I can't get over the times I murdered people with words and condemnation.
Used my tongue like a double edged sword as I destroyed their reputation.

I unfollowed everyone on my twitter because I have to follow my intuition.
I'm sure it's not only me that does this since it's the human condition.

My room is a graveyard because I've got skeletons in my cupboard.
I'm colorblind and I'm beginning to think that salvation is colored.

My peers are living alone now while I live with regrets.
I've been lonely 'cos I have friends I haven't reconciled with yet.

I'm convinced I'm broken because lately I've been feeling blue.
At times I try to hold it together but they pour out just like tears in the eyes do.

When night comes, over my numbed body I pull up my bedsheet.
Time becomes the house I'm trapped in hence, I'm running out of it.
 



REFERENCES 
Jude Umoren, 'How time works' (online, 2020) <https://m.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1737384503090608&id=100004572240875&set=pb.100004572240875.-2207520000..&source=42>.