Tick, Tock
He is covered in mud
For so long, dark brown
The years have left him
Cold to the touch

Click, click
Tasting of dust and
The bark of birch
Gears in his mind
Constantly shifting

Tick, Tock
His tapping heartbeat
Breathing sequentially
Chorus of bells
It's his job

Ding, ****
There goes my grandfather clock

I used to think
That the oceans were salty
Because they came from tears.

I thought that the oceans
Were an embarkment of water
From millions of people's sadness.

And the more we cried,
The more our sadness will dry out
Into the ocean.

If we managed to cry every tear,
Into the sea
We wouldn't be sad.

Surviving the tornado is rarely heard,
As the metropolis was surely stirred.
It could be called a raging killer,
Such a thing but a pillar.

It lifts up spouses,
It lifts up houses,
Many people have no where left to run,
From a death worse than any gun.

Hopefully, no-one experienced this before,
Even though its far more likely than war.
Yet, there’s not much left to be said,
Thus many people have just fled.

Now all that's left for you to do,
Is to run on your cue.