The Brilliance of A Masquerade

There’s a clock on my wall
   that reads 9 pm

I like looking at my clock because
   the hands always seem to be waving hi
Inching closer and closer to each numerical friend

My clock is pretty
It has a swirly green tie-dye face and 
The seconds hand has a lively monarch butterfly on it
   which travels smoothly along the radius of the clock
   letting the other hands know when it is time for them to move

The mantel in which my clock rests is made of mahogany wood and makes a nice picture when my friends come over

There is nothing insuring my clock won’t slip though 

My clock is patiently expecting the day when a greater force shoves it down

Down, down, down, my clock goes

The protective glass shatters into a scatter of constellations on my white tiled floor

The hands droop sadly, the wings of the butterfly crumple

My clock is sad and broken 
Sad and broken
Just like me