The clock is chiming, striking the time sounds overflowing my room; and I alone, coiled at a corner whistle this monotonous tune. I know I should get up I should clean and cook but noone is gonna care if I don''''''''t; I turn my head and look outside through the window, like a door to the hope. Voices of the crowd, vivid and loud call me like sirens to dance. But the red of the sky meets the blue of the night I don''''''''t want to disturb the dusk. Seconds last hours in my distorted brain a daisy is dying in a vase. Noone comes, the phone doesn''''''''t ring it mocks me, I know for sure. The clock is ticking, ticking so loud nailing pins to my head. No wish for a change, just wishing an end still whistling this awful tune.