“Alarm” by Jeffrey Libby

Not many people love me.
It’s hard to make friends when your only occupation is to rouse
sleeping bodies from their slumber and selflessly
give the time without so much as a “thank you”.
Sitting motionless, only to be whacked on the head and
cursed at as the light begins to bleed through windows.
And after the abuse, I fall back into my hibernation,
tormented by the nightmares,
waiting for the next awakening which quickly approaches.
I, a time-bomb already ticking down again now;
reset by my master only shortly after I was diffused.
But even I cannot control time as the seconds melt away.
If I fail to do my job in the morning, it is inevitably my fault
just as it is when I do my job, when I cry out for help.
I cannot win
doomed to sit on this table top and sleep until the
nightmares wake me, and I scream, I cry.
But they will never hear me.
They Think that I’m telling them to get up,
that I simply plead for them to
go to work and carry on with their daily routine.
If only they spoke my language.
Maybe then they would understand.
But it’s too late now;
It’s already here and even my
screams can’t wake them.