13. Tock

Instead of the tick-tock my pocket-watch sings,

My grandfather’s hands turn tock, tock, tock

Like a metronome, this clock,

And the pendulum so heavy and solemn,

Makes a sound so deep and sober

And the pendulum comes, closer, closer,

And the hands point at… me;

He tocks and glares accusingly

 

And my eyes are full of all these clocks,

And my head is full of ticks and tock,

And am I to blame?

I played this game;

I played too long;

My life is a shame

 

And my fingers try to break these locks,

And my ears are deafened by ticks and tocks

This day, everlasting,

The pain never passing,

My punishment, lashing,

My eyes flashing,

The pain, massing,

My eyes glassing

The End

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