Clocks no longer tick. They run in silence toward a hopeless future,
Passed, unseen, by knots of people hollowed out by fear. Remember
When they gathered in the streets to curse the financiers? The cops
Arrived. They cringed and ran. Remember when they marched to
Stop the violent treatment of the blacks? The cops arrived. They
Cringed and ran, and they did likewise after they had said the genocide
Should stop. At last, they became broken vessels bearing only
Bitterness toward everyone and everything. They shuffle grimly
Past a clock which isn't running anymore toward a future they've
Assured will be devoid of hope.