Ungrateful Clockwork - Arko Ashfaque

 Ungrateful Clockwork

- Arko Ashfaque 

Time is honest,

yes—brutally so.

But honest like a mirror 

You never asked to look into,

Like a truth that 

Cuts cleaner than any lie.

It says nothing when 

You hold someone up

While they’re drowning 

In their own quiet storm.

No applause.

No nod of the hour hand.

You just do it—

because you’re human, right?

A noble creature, they say.

Ashraful Makhlukat.

Crowned with conscience,

but cursed with memory,

With truth, sadness and

Years of tormenting past!

And maybe—just maybe—

you ask for a little space.

A little say in the way the help unfolds.

Your time. Your terms.

Your soul, measured out in kindness.

Then suddenly—

BOOM.

The timetable convulses.

The gears grind like teeth.

The hourglass doesn’t just crack...

it shatters.

Now your gift is no longer a gift.

It’s a ledger.

A chain.

A silent obligation inked in invisible guilt.

They don’t see the hand you stretched.

Only the shadow it now casts.

Your face changes.

Not in truth—but in their story.

You become the villain.

The one who wanted something back.

And time?

It just keeps ticking.

Cold.

Unmoved.

Letting the weight fall on your back,

as if compassion was just another clock

waiting to betray you.