And the Clock Kept Ticking

There once was a clock of many colors.
Blue danced with green, fought with red, and kissed yellow.
Purple serenaded aquamarine, and dove with iridescent crimson.
Her hands spun and the hues danced.

It had been by her side all her life, that clock.
Reminding her of time past and the future's descending length.
She got very sick, and the seasons went from spring budding pansies to fall crunching leaves.
But she was still sick, and the clock kept ticking.

With no regard, the clock turned the girl into a woman. But she was sick.
Very sick.
It made her scream and rant and cry and bleed, but the clock continued her rhythmic ticking, and the sickness persisted.
Her mom cried, begged, and pleaded.
"No," said the illness, "It is not I that needs to change."
The mom built up her courage, her savvy, her shrewdness into a towering bridge, large enough to stifle any sickness. But she was knocked down not by Hate, but by hate wearing Love's mask.

The girl came inside, and she got even more sick.
The clock kept on ticking.

Well, its been a long time gone, and Hate's mask is slowly being pealed from his face.
Well, its been a long time gone since the mom has cried.
But the girl is still sick.
She was halfway over the hill, but still a girl.

Maybe she'll be a girl forever, sick forever.
Maybe the mom will stop and cry.
Maybe they won't.

But the blue, green, purple, and red will dance into eternity; the canvas of time.