Hour Hand

The hour hand ticks The hour to not tick and further wouldn't it go and let time terror turn the sooner it's terminated the sooner silence speaks no warmth fo get burnt fills the shade to cool It twists to the west where the sun now rises the wheel is set back where calmly converge crisis people wouldn't refrain to retrace their way back and rethink their path to set another faith of track The boundaries had someone set break, bound to anger the ribs of wreakage heal as the wheel spins backwards A sudden yet loud rest and further restless run to the point where senses pound And soon sets the sun the hour hand ticks The hour where it leans It will never or so stand still or fall back at ease