Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Pain is a mistress from the sailors left to drown,
Cresting on the shoulder of a coo coo clock, ready to pounce, 
Close to the old man’s face, sour with a dark frown,
Counting the worth in his life laying only to under an ounce,
A passion for destruction, a compulsion by retirement,
The introversion of young men and old.


Ticking and tocking, bearing waste much to their distaste,
Why it shrieks and crawls to the edge of the cliff,
Always coming back for more.