The Clockmaker's Grin

The Clockmaker's Grin

Gears that grind and tick through bone,
Hands that spin on their own,
Copper veins and iron spine,
Binding time with fate's design.

Cogs that creak and whisper low,
Choking life with every throw,
Pendulum sways with heavy breath,
Counting seconds toward your death.

Tick-tock, the clockmaker's grin,
Winding souls where time wears thin,
Broken chimes and twisted hands,
Cursed to craft where time demands.

Rust that seeps through hollow springs,
Broken chimes the devil sings,
Frozen eyes that watch the dial,
Fixing fate with twisted guile.

Turn the key and lose the day,
Clocks that hunt and won't delay,
Grind the years to dust and ash,
Memories lost in time's backlash.

Midnight tolls with jagged breath,
Winding down toward certain death,
When the cogs and springs unwind,
He will carve your name in time.

Tick-tock, the clockmaker's grin,
Winding souls where time wears thin,
Broken chimes and twisted hands,
Cursed to craft where time demands.

When dawn cracks the rusty face,
Gears still turn but leave no trace,
Of the souls that fell within,
Trapped inside the clockmaker’s grin.