So I Broke My Clock

A few minutes ago, it came to my attention
That the clock serves as a metronome,
And every tick-tock of the clock
Signals that every second has left existence.
It's a constant reminder
That every second be measured and scrutinized
Right before one falls asleep -
When one realizes in the back round
Something has been keeping track.

Dwelling in the unknown that is life which seems long
But brutally short in proportion to history,
It's a mystery how all came to being,
And seeing how a concept such as time
Is both sublime and a reality,
It's sad that it doesn't wait or mourn any fatality
Or... anything for that matter;
And the latter include Ideas
That one seals away in various dimensions of Art,
But even those mediums don't last
Against an adversary that is eternal and intangible,
Against something that doesn't even seem it had a start,
But it's equally inconceivable to attempt to think -
It sets one on the brink of mental chaos,
Violent confusion, dismembering illusion of Truth,
So I held the thing that caused
These series of relations in my mind
And bashed it against the wall it hung
Until all the hands, loosely, pointed downwards.
After realizing the significance of this endeavor,
I quietly dismantled the infernal thing,
But with extreme prejudice, of course,
And for once, eight hours of sleep didn't feel so burdened.