
You placed me in my room
through a wall when punched with doom,
and on the floor I lie
with pain and marks of gloom.
I woke to tick tock tick
on a ground of cold dank brick,
A clock it caught my eye
with a face of blood and grit.
In the heat my heart it froze
when horror it did grow,
the gush and ooze of red
from the time piece it did flow.
By L. M. Montes