Armand Ghayspoor // CLOCK

Its indifferent face as you rush out the door

in panic.

Watching your every move,

like a hawk.

 

A tiny heart

with a steady beat,

ubiquitous

from thearctic to the tropic.

 

A workaholic that refuses to stop.

You find its grandfather lying in the attic,

its child in the palm of your hand.

Silent as a rock one minute, screaming the next.

 

Call it annoying.

Call it a pain.

In the morning as you put on your socks.

 

Call it amazing.

Bring out the champagne,

When the ball drops in Times Square.

 

Its mutated hands playing tag,

eating away at your lifetime.

Read its face and you will see

it can hold you captive or set you free.

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