for seven straight days
I have worked hours deep
Till my vision does fade
To the soft veil of sleep
But I carry onward,
mending dials and cores,
checking gears, mechanisms,
the cuckoo blasts through his doors
and recedes just as quickly like the coward he is
No voice as melodic or annoying as his
Weathered fingers work quickly like the hands on the face,
Of a grandfather clock, broken by weird Uncle Chase
my nails are chipping, my energy flee
The sculptor of freedom, who never is free
decimated by moments, but how cruel is she?
The creator of time, not exempt from time be
