The Clock

What caused, the meaning, of this sin
I wonder if, it’s glad to win
How could it take, my only smile
And leave me with, this joke of guile
My arms go up, the clock goes down
But time has struck, the hands go round
I scream, and scream
As time, I’ve seen
Is less, and less, and less, and less, and...
...what shall I do, but sit and wait
While death impends, and life abates
So nonchalant, the clock, its grin
How short, my verse, how sad it’s been