A clock that’s timeless,
Thundering but no light,
Boiling without a whistle,
Humans but no kind.
The dust stuck her clothes,
As she carries the bricks on her head,
Working barefoot all day long,
Sleeping under tree that may soon turn red.
In this world with no riches,
She didn’t even try to fly,
May be she didn’t want to fly,
May be she just wanted to walk,
Walk through toyshops to grab a few,
To dance and play like other kids do,
Or walk through aisle of bookstores,
And fall asleep while reading one.
So she just kept walking,
holding on to a fading faith,
Walking and walking,
To escape the poor wraith.
But the tunnel she walked by,
Without cautious instructions,
Shall be told with a sigh,
Took her in a different direction.
She tried breathing more,
She tried holding on a bit more longer,
But in her poor world there was no wrong or right,
Just wrong and wronger.
So she left her isle of dreams,
Drowning in the dry stream,
While her heart was filled with one last thought,
That who will fix the timeless clock!