stop and start

I am like a timepiece –

People carry me with them,
wrapped tightly around their wrist or stowed deeply in their pocket.
Some enjoy flaunting me; others use me as an accessory;
very few, though, it seems, make use of me in the traditional way.

Yet at the same time,
everyone carries me with them in their mind.
There I reside
in a thought bubble that is so frequently pricked throughout the day
with the itching to know my stance. A quick glance
at my face and all can be told in a matter of seconds,
for there is nothing I hide –

my cards are on the table,
my heart is on my sleeve,
your time is on my hands.

I am there when you need me, when you have time for me;
I am there, just lurking in the air, even when not a soul in the world cares.
When you lay to rest in your bed, I never come to a standstill;
When you finally kick the bucket, my wheels will not cease to turn.

I will remain on your wrist
or in your pocket,
hell, maybe I’ll even be burnt to a crisp
with you. Or would you prefer a coffin? 

I will continue ticking,
the only difference is that I would do so unwillingly, unnecessarily, and purposelessly.

I wonder what might happen if I died.
I’ve yet to find out what happens when I do.

Silence.

I’d like to think my last tick would echo through your mind. I’d like to think you’d miss my annoying pulse. I’d like to, but let’s not be ridiculous – only one truth will always remain in me, no matter my shape or size:

my time is on your hands. 

Because when I die,
you may have lost an intimate piece of history,
however, it’s but a matter of moseying into town – you can buy a new me
and maybe even get another one for free!
(or at least half-price) 

So, upon deeper reflection,
I’d much rather it were me that came to an end than you,
for scarce objective would remain if all I am left with
is to serve a dead man’s purpose.

I am like a timepiece.
A piece in time.
A time for peace.