deepundergroundpoetry.com

Broken Clocks
Who'll remember me when my ink runs dry?
Will I just be another poetic guy when I die?
Will memories fly away in the howling wind?
Will tragedy be the means of how I meet my end?
Will enemies pretend that we were really friends?
Will my legacy stand firm or unwillingly bend?
How many will console my family when they grieve?
Will any souls hold their hands and provide reprieve?
These are the things that I sometimes wonder
Will I reach my demise after the sound of thunder?
This world's falling asunder with each tic and toc
None know of the day that their clock will stop
Will I just be another poetic guy when I die?
Will memories fly away in the howling wind?
Will tragedy be the means of how I meet my end?
Will enemies pretend that we were really friends?
Will my legacy stand firm or unwillingly bend?
How many will console my family when they grieve?
Will any souls hold their hands and provide reprieve?
These are the things that I sometimes wonder
Will I reach my demise after the sound of thunder?
This world's falling asunder with each tic and toc
None know of the day that their clock will stop
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