The second hand a rapier
The hour hand, a longsword
And the minutes are my claymore
Armored with the twelve as I push forward
The face is the shield
The gears inside by my command spin or yield
My arsenal is time itself, ticking as I walk
Slaying all of my fears with each sound of a tock
The seconds are my soldiers, loyal and true
The hours are my guardians, great, but few
The moments are precious, hold them dear
Time is the ultimate force, weild it to control eternity
Take control of your destiny
Reinforceing dreams considerably
There is a person and future for which I weild tick and tock
And I have the aid and power of an ever revolving clock

There is a reason I can't keep my hands off you.
Mostly because you feel so supple to my touch.
But there is more to it.
See I express my self physically.
Use my hands to accentuate my speach.
So for me to touch you is more than you think.
It is my ultimate expression of love.
My hands lazily trotting the atlas of your form.
Is a million words that don't exist.
Before we had words, we had gestures.
Love is impossible to articulate with words.
So I will let my hands do the talking.
And I do hope you understand,
Why words don't flow from me to you.
Love is a feeling not a word.
And it's meant to be felt.
Do you feel it? Because I mean it.
So much that I can't even insult the feeling,
By using paltry words.
No word is worth what you mean to me.
No words.