It hangs in solitary confinement on the wall,
never been given the charge of life to make it tick.
Forever stuck with one hand up, the other pointing
perpendicular as if providing directions to a drifting tourist.
With it's motionless face of glass it observes the
daily shenanigans of mobile beings bustling around.
Itching to grind the gears deep within its structure
even if it's just for one simple minute.
In silence it longs to be as boisterous as a bell tower, to stand
tall and chime so loud that it is notorious from miles around.
Internally making the tick tock rhythm, soft yet prominent
like a time bomb, imagining that all would lend an ear and listen.
It's frame intertwining into an intricate design
of delicate beauty and utter obscurity.
Yet other than a wandering glance around the room
no one takes notice of the prisoner on the wall.
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