My Clock Ticks as an Echo. A poem by Sophie Brennan

I feel earthbound in world of reflected Sound
I ask around in uncrowned Sound
reply is in spellbound Chant Sound
each person’s Accent is a burial-ground sound
pathetically obstinate, rebound Slushed around; Dirt’s sound-
A corpses mouth underground tied by string of taunting sound…

My World skips ornately to teddybear Tune
I squeeze neighbours’ bodies in hope of sinful Tune
my teeth Grit, their hearts Click a Tune
tongues Slither Echoed Sound, I call this one; ear-worm’s Tune
Scream indifference to Shatter Echo tune
cannot hear past media’s flashy pop-culture tune
shaggy coat stems from fuzzy stuffing fibre tune
My scaly skin slips away…

I see walking Echoes of pale Lowly piano Keys
disguised to all fit in the same low-tune dirt hole- these keys
but they have always looked the same- these keys…

if I were a key, I would unlock the hole of Echoey dark cave
an ancient one, who rebelled against sheepish Echo- Brave
I realise the dark Tune of rust on my key’s head
Echoes that I have fled, the Ballad of dread
I Sing too fast- an arrowhead…

I have reached my target -this white page- the same before Beethoven‘s patterned Echo
The world’s pattern I grow to
I am the opposite of fading Echo.

~Written by Sophie Brennan, 18

…………

My name is Sophie Brennan and I am eighteen years old from Ireland. I have just finished my final year in school and hope to study English in college, but currently awaiting results.