Clock Poem by Safiyyah Manjra

These numbers are figures,
Which play with my endeavours.

They capture you, me and time.
As it plays it's melodious chime.

This is why the second-hand ticks.
Forcing each hand to work as playing sticks.
Us to give in to the mimics.
Such is the marvellous work of a maverick.

Call these numbers as if they are of value.
We have placed so much work I am not sure what is true.

As pain is the masterpiece.
To actually create a piece.