The Clock
THE CLOCK
Tick, Tick, Tick,Tick
You count my life away.
No room to be sick
So little to time to play.
Bodiless face and hands
Attract my every gaze.
And determine all my plans.
Cold, hard cogs and gears
Grind mercilessly onward
Marking time year after year.
Only forward never backward.
You march on and on
In the end I will be gone.
Copyright © Oliver Mckeithan | Year Posted 2016
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