The Timekeeper never cares
When someone’s number is up.
Tearing down the families,
Best friends, lovers, and such.
He is not of flesh; therefore,
Having not a soul.
Breaking the ties of love;
The Grim Reaper is his own.
Note that he’s considered male,
For a female would ne’er take part
In breaking the tie of mom to babe,
Nor crush the elderly’s heart.
His cogs and wheels kept turning
Since the beginning of all time.
They are now not spinning right;
He, himself, is near out of rhyme.
He has to find a replacement
To carry out his deed,
So he did plant a little thought
Causing Tigerwrite to need
To begin a contest based on
The Timekeeper’s ill facade.
The winner of this contest will
earn an eternity’s job.
What we hear as a clock tick
Is acting as the trickster’s heart.
He laughs to think that we run our lives
At the bell of his rotten art.
Who will become the next to slave
When the present will depart?
Methinks it cannot be The Past,
The Future will make his start.
Maybe this time a female will be
The black-cloaked bringer of dread.
“Equal rights be the death of me,”
The old misogynist would say on his bed.
Because of this, I do strongly feel,
That I shall win the prize.
Because, you see, the decision’s been made
And I am the new keeper of time.
– Vanja LaVoie