The Clock

I sit and look at the clock on my wall,
Ticking away, with the cold heart of a machine.
Fully aware of the pain it causes all
Who barely know what will be, has been.

It was made by a very mortal hand
But, then by some inexplicable force,
It took control of all the land
And over those which were its source.

And thus it is that every person
Is racing against the clock
So that his life may not worsen
His freedom has a lock.

We are caught in the clutches of time
In turn determined by the clock's chime
Its glass screen covered with a layer of grime
But knowing itself to be sublime.

Author's Note

I am a beginner, any advice would be appreciated.

Reviews

[pakhi289]

Made me look at things in a new light. A really wonderful read!

[Najam Us Saher]

Wow. Very interesting and deep philosophical poem on time. I really liked this.

[¿]

We're caught in the clutches of time - you got something in you that makes the simple advise be presented in just great another way! Great read😊