Like Clockwork
The tickity-tock of a good looking clock,
Keeping in time is his way to talk,
Although people can't see the whirring inside,
The spinning and clicking:
The face must hide.
Attached to an oven,
Or stuck on a bomb,
Even to wake up,
His point is to alarm.
The clock is the one,
On who any could rely,
A best friend or the enemy,
The choice is their's; not mine.
Relying on others to rely on him,
The clock's destiny relies in necesity,
Needed for his precision and consistency,
But without being needed by others,
He has no need to be.
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