Turning of a Golden Clock
Every passing moment
Every click of the clock
Is another hour spent
Wiping the faces of mock
And when all is said and done
I see myself in the mirror
And realize with a stun
That I’ve become something of horror
To see my world grind away
And see the hate turn to blood
I wish to see another…
A day where I don’t see the red flood
And a day where all I see are smiles
Of all those I love, on golden dials
This poem is about:
Me
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