The Monster on the Mantle
The clock, like an accountant, goes about its business heartlessly.
Are you not finished? That's too bad. Are you expecting something
Truly wonderful? You'll have to wait, and what was once, however
Splendid, drifts downstream beyond your reach. You stare. The world
Spins around you. Young, you thought, your thoughts unchanging,
You discover you've grown old. You're doomed to die, but who knows
When? The heartless, ticking clock.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
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Written on 2024-11-22 at 03:10
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