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In the den, I hear tick-tocking,
from the clock perched above the door.
And I know that it is mocking
me, while I sit here on the floor.
For it knows I am not sleeping,
still it laughs at my weary core
and the clock knows I am keeping
watch on the hours, from the floor.
Soon it finds that I am crying.
The clock chimes out the time of four.
But there is no use in trying,
as sleep has left me on the floor.
Now I rage with angry laughter.
The clock is chortling once more.
For my sanity it’s after.
Soon, I am rocking on the floor.
“Don’t you see what you are doing?”
All of its mocking I deplore.
As my sleep is still not wooing
me to my bed from on the floor.
Soon my eyes start getting teary
and the clock chimes to keep the score.
As my body’s growing weary,
I’m drawn to lie down on the floor.
Finally, my sleep had found me.
The clock’s chimes hidden by my snore.
Still it laughs because it will see
me, once again, here on the floor.
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