The Devil’s Clock

T

Upon the endless shelves of time, there sits an hourglass not filled with sand
But with the teeth of former youths, placed there by a witch’s hand
The devil tilts back and forth, watching the bony seconds fall
Through the feminine shape it looks, at me and you and to us all
Waiting, counting ’til the end, ’til through the salted halls we walk
Loud and silent, fear forever the ticking hands of the devil’s clock

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