((This is basically an experiment with possible poetry verse forms, although it's....really creepy. o.o;; Dammit Edgar Allen Poe, stop depressing me.)
The clock counts the minutes today
All men become orphans when it chimes
For it always takes the eldest first
At least, that’s what they say
I can see it outside in the light of day
I watch the machine keep its time
For the creature hungers and thirsts
For victims on which to prey
Someone I know will be led away
A person too young and too kind
And I cannot run although it hurts
From the reaper grim and grey.
