Time bomb

Sometimes bombs fall on my head,
not hydrogen or plutonium,
nor plastic or TNT.

More like poems of such immense despair that the fallout obscures everything but the blast.

The tears run down the inside of my melted cheeks,
timeless.

I am enormous,
the gravity of my ego pulls all light inwards,
no one can see me.

A stopwatch may plummet through 60 seconds,
but a minute is infinite to an expanding universe, full of such black holes.