Loop Thirteen

In this room,

time is not a line.

It is a locked circle.

Steam rises, the porcelain is cold

He orders black, the story starts unfold

Forty seconds on the analog display

Just a drop of rain inside the gray

Steam rises, the cup begins to fill

He takes his seat,

the world is frozen still

But on this ninth pass,

something has to break

A quiet warning only one can make

She writes a word across the paper frame

A message hidden in a looping game

Run before the seconds turn to dust

Escape the loop, because you must (shhhh)