It starts to crack,
Heavy feet upon
The fainting window pane
That he, weighs himself upon,
Forced and enclosed,
Looking for Houdini’s key
As the twisted arm
Of the counting man
Does not hesitate to tick,
Each crack bellows louder
As he frantically searches, for the exit,
The clocking hand racing
Towards the finale,
Eager to see him fall into the pit,
Where he will be swallowed whole
By the beast that stalks the end,
How can he free himself
From this entanglement?
How does he mold back
The glass that has suffered?
Feverish cracks continue,
Shattering the glass he perched on,
The click of the killer clock
Is gratified.
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