It confuses me, the clock on the wall
It serves no one, but it’s used by all
A slave to something, that doesn’t exist
Slow the breath, or tick-tock persists
Time is wasted, looking at the clock
Like a ship with no sail, stuck at the dock
It’s all so confusing, how best to understand
The hour through glass, flipped by the hand
Flip no more, and time shall stand
It’s just an illusion, like fiat in hand
I hope this poem, did not waste your time
I must go to bed now, it’s quarter past nine