Clockwork

The city is a machine. Few, if any of the people who scurry along the streets ever realize that fact. The gears of humanity grind on day after day after day, with an endless supply of new sacrifices being fed in to fuel the cogs and drive the pistons. It is a cruel machine, like a clock. Always stealing, subtracting from life. You can hear it marching towards death with every bleak measured second. Do you hear the sound of your own life? Listen closely. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.