The clock

Despite my woe is grand I understand
The land is blessed of time and helping hands
Insight is right to toughen up our might
To stand to fight to do of which is right

The heights of what we do and what we plan
Defies the failure of brittle spite
And little we’re to know of high delight
If we will rise to guise of bitter man

The umph to stand and then do what is life
I’ve tried I’ve failed I’m still to grieve demand
Although the fault is not of my command
My pride is charmed alarming wires denied

The signs will find me vexed I’ll still be fine
I wonder what is next to soothe my cries


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