The Clock

The clock

The mighty hands of the teller struck, hard.

Perceiving, he isn't waiting for none.

Running into a zone wild

I couldn't catch it,

With all the toil tried.

His hands move, so as my fortune.

Scheming, to happen next in my life,

In the coming time soon.

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Making my and brain block.

'The clock' is what everybody calls him,

Being a stranger, yet deciding my destiny!

(Personifying the clock)