A Midnight Stroke Closer

The clock ticks on and on

And I watch the hands

In their tormented eternal struggle

Of utter monotonous familiarity.

They trace the same path

Every single day

Locked forever in complete sameness

I hear their dull quiet ticking

As they perfectly time each tock

As if it is something interesting

When the only thing that fascinates them

Is the soft long stroke of midnight

That marks one day to the next

And shows them that their dreary struggle

Is one slow day closer

To the enticing apocalypse when