• he shows his shadow in the dark of the night
    lifting the pain as his step weakens
    "control it", he says
    but no control was given......
    he was let out a prisoner weak and weary,
    of a many nights he wrote this poem,
    a long and painful dream,
    as the clock tick tocked
    and the shame foretold
    this was the story yet still untold,
    the riches he held was yet a ghost of a many pleasant peasant,
    "to Arthur" was the only words the book held,
    As blood surpassed his maiden
    he reached the center as the clock tick tocked,
    tick tock ,tick tock, tick tock ,tick tock,
    the pain was held within him,
    tick tock, tick tock
    god it needed to stop but as her blood surpassed TICK TOCK, TICK TOCK,
    his patience grew a flowered flitter,
    yet beyond the door he heard the twitter,
    closer and CLOSER
    as his body detoxed
    he heard the sounds TICK TOCK, TICK TOCK
    Please god!
    PLEASE GOD MAKE IT STOP!!!
    The shadow grew closer as his heart grew very small
    the sound was closer and so were the walls,
    he heard a loud scream as his eyes opened up.....
    to the sound of the tick as the tock interrupt,
    he grew cold as he shiver on the bed white as a ghost,
    then he seen a white coat and a tube n his throat,
    he laughed "it was a dream" at least thats what he hoped
    Bt he woke from a coma 97yrs old
    "what happened to me!!!!!"
    he declared in vain
    the doctor just shook his head and called him insane
    as the needle of the phantom called his name....
    yes that was the poem of which he lived
    and this is his freedom of which he gave,
    Useless? I think not and I am the life he saved