The Gift

“Congrats! You’re a twelvie today!”
A gift that seemed all too cliché.

Like a shiny purple bracelet
So beautiful and round
Not a movement in sight
But a unique monotonous sound

It ticks as constant as my breathing
And looks oh so deceiving,
Why, oh why is it so misconceiving?
With its pure crystals on the side
It would drop jaws nation-wide

I keep my watch in my jewellery box
A piece of gold I love to hold
All for me. Oh can’t you see
I am as happy as can be

Once a treasure
That brought me great pleasure
Can’t be found in any place
Oh where, oh where could it be?
This is an utter disgrace!

The cliché gift now with meaning. Its sole purpose of appeasing.
Perhaps I’ll find it one day. A journey leading me astray.