Contraption

Quietly deteriorating

Still it remains, repeating

Still it repeats, entreating

Inaction to reaction

The stuttering ticking

Of a dying contraption

Stanzas for minutes

Dawns seconds to verses

From spring to gear and cogs

Spins coherence in symbolism

Mechanism of maladies

Yet remedies, its purpose

Ceases tracking moments

Instead tallies my torturous

Thoughts turned ruinous

And tactless are my hands

Within this malfunctioning

Apparatus now hazardous

Beyond these repetitions

Respite surely requires

Toil of reparation, but

Now unfound, the vitiation

Presently beyond mending

This contraption's creation

Designed for dilapidation

Turns time to steady

Turnings of deterioration

Still it remains, repeating

Still it repeats, entreating

A vexation of my senses

My slipping adolescence

Corroding to stillness

Still it remains, repeating,

Still it repeats, entreating

Inaction to reaction

The stuttering ticking

Of a reviving contraption