Do You Ever Wonder

What happened to noises of that tattered clock
Where its tedious tick now sequesters,
How its noise carcass clings to your springy noose
While hiding among bound wheels to fester?

Why its fragile echo, once garishly beating
Murmurs under grasp of your baleful threat
Why it's dial shrinks to salute dying silence
While it cowers under glimpse of your silhouette?

How those brittle hinges that tensely squeak
Strictly regulate your discordant disguise
Why as you beg its hands to just faintly alter
The more prominent are its relenting cries?





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