A Clock Scattered in Red
A clock scattered in red
Tick Tock and the clock stops
For the man on the edge is now on the ledge. 500 pounds of dread
A worn mask is worn like so many times before.
And soon the day is torn. For the man in the mask
had a task before dawn
Tick Tock the mask passed
And the ledge slips by. Without a blink of an eye
A passerby meets the man fallen from the sky
In the blink of an eye the floodgates of red fills the holes.
One last time he meets another's eye
And the dread of the passerby holds tightly
the scattered clock in red
As dreams bring floodgates of red
and flashbacks of the man with his clock
scattered in red occurs in a blink of an eye
500 pounds of dread
Tick Tock a clock scattered in red
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This Poems Story
Alone in an alley, I turned around to a noise that forever changed me. It was the noise of a man hitting the pavement fromfive stories high. I dedicate this poem in memory of the man on the edge who needed a gentle hand. I often dream he steps down, envisioning his cry of relief. I devote my career to those who are lost when the world turns upside down. As for the title, I found his scattered clock beside him; the dial had broken from his watchband. It now is a reminder that lightness always follows darkness.