The Clock

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Gears Grind.
Circling round and round.
Forcing the hands,
To move around the face.
A face pale, besides
The dark smudges of numbers around the edges.
The clock whirls and twirls.
As Hours, Days, Months pass.
The clock creaks along,
Forever in a state of motion.
Rings 12? 1? 2? 3? AM? PM?
It doesn’t know.
Its gears continue swirling,
Circling round and round.
Forcing the hands that be
Watching time slowly sneak past
Before you know it your times up.





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