Broken Clock

I like this back wards clock
Composed of absent thought
It goes back to where it went
Before our time was sent

Separate from out time
It, has lost it's mind
It stays in it's memories
Moving slightly, but tenderly

It forgot where it was going
Only one hand can stay flowing
Broken that is still
Like a stone going up a hill

It hesitates before the six
I'll leave it like this unfixed
A reminder of the past
A unchanged area, time forever masked

I like this broken hand
Out of place it will stand
Individualized for eternity
Simply by its impurity
Unable to do its job
Really its more of a frod
Telling us a truth once had
Believed true now only by the mad