The Tools of Time

Consistent clanking like the steady pace of steel tipped stilettos,

the war machine's ticking more abrasive on the ears,

more degrading on the soul,

than the tools of time.

It can't be stopped and those that delay it

rot away in a festering wave of relentless progress,

madly driven to stampede.

A carefully constructed pandemonium,

its pounding louder than the ceaseless clacking of machine gun fire,

its footsteps can be heard around the world.