This Burning Watch

This burning watch,

it screams to me its three-o-clock alarm;

can’t brace the pace it makes me cower.

Three arms that swing exultantly

I race to face my final hour.

This burning watch,

it sings away my every passing breath;

although the song goes so long;

It shall surely sing my death.

Abstract time seems a foe,

and a playground life calls friend.

Extract from it my every goal,

incomplete at every end.

Make the most and manage well,

or so the sage will tell.

Yet even the wise cannot deny

the tolling of the bell.

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