i watch the second hand as it stumbles past that number 12 it s such a vicious hand that pushes everything away from me so young with all the time in the world you run and hide mapping out so many dreams so many plans when so much is new the ticking of the clock is just to quiet to hear when so much is new nothing seems to matter time etches itself across your face the ticking just gets louder those maps that we made when we were young they start to fray and tear at the edges the places we wanted to go slowly disappear and when the ticking stops and we all notice the silence it s the sound we could all hear but we chose to ignore it it s the sound we could all hear but we all chose to ignore it as we keep growing up we re just waiting for the ticking to stop and as we start giving up that sound keeps on getting louder