Can you hear it? I am a broken clock.
All bent on banging beats of blues on time,
I halt the ebb and flow of the tick tock,
Unfit to fathom when the bells may chime.
Can you see it? I drag a broken leg,
The mark that maims immodest men who’d strut.
A foot that fails to follow suit will lag
And leave me lame along a lonesome street.
Can you smell it? I blow a broken breath
So full of foul and phantom fumes of fear.
My chest will swell at odds with life and death,
Afraid to state a stance on truth that’s clear.
Can you feel it? I host a broken heart.
Its beat can run amok, seemingly, on a whim,
To waken love when silence stays to hurt.
Forlorn, it slows and sleeps, at last, lukewarm.