“Not one of the clocks I own appear to work.”


    It’s an assumption, written, that I claim.


    Their cogs and wheels fail, each by obscure quirk


    I’d think it unfair to shoulder the blame.


    Their hands are each present, and yet none move;


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.Decorations on boards with no function.


    Assignments labored, but what can I do


    When professors deny the malfunction.


    I’ve panicked. Slaved. Done writing for hours.


    (I started after the draft became due.)


    Written a sonnet, it’s about flowers,


    And every claim since spoken is true.


    But now it’s too late. I’ve failed to submit.


    And now none will read this poem I''ve writ.