The Wise Clock

 

Tick tock, tick tock

At what expense would I flee this life?

I hang on a blank wall, helpless

A victim to the numbers

 

Tick tock, tick tock

I can count only in seconds the race of time

For my arms point to numbers my eyes cannot see

And divide in lonely incriments the days and years

 

Tick tock, tick tock

The ones who stare at me don't wonder

They only read my shallow body for the truth

For my voice is not heard by them

My heart of brass not shared by them

I am only a tool in their book of tools

 

Tick tock, tick tock

Would they grieve at my absence?

Can they even feel sorrow?

What monsters would hang another by a mere nail?

 

Tick tock, tick tock

In fifty years I have watched them grow old

Slaves are born and freed in less time

But machines feel no such mercy

 

Tick tock, tick tock

I hold this truth as doctrine

That one day I will wander

Their eyes no longer able to scale my face

Their routine stopped short

For they are sheep without their shepherd

 

Men without their God

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Tate Morgan]

How unhappy it would be to be a clock All though there are times in life that it seems we are just keeping place with the others and accomplishing nothing