ticking clocks

as the little needle moves
the minute hand follows
around in a cycle
filled with sorrows
it never moves out of place
or stops to take a break
rotating rotating as it goes

never slowling, never lagging
only temporarily slacking
making it go out of sync
to what others would deem pleasing

the poor clock unwanted and void
simply not good enough to be someones toy
to be used
to be valued
something people used to turn to
but now as reality sets in
just like a slap to its face
the poor clock is no longer wanted
left to be only something forgotten

ironic isnt it?
sounds alot like me
once my "owner" was through
i became last years news
had he forgot?
or he didnt care
either way
i'm as good as not there

just to be left out in the dark
only to cling to life by the stroke of luck
maybe i should be like the clock
still rotating without a doubt
not being of any use
minute hands still on the move
out of everyones view
only to be the piece once valued.