Clock

As the water droplet fell, the lifeless body swung to and fro
The wooden boards groaned as they strained to keep the dead weight aloft, bulging outward with every swing
Callused, Cold fingers and swollen, cracked toes traced odd symbols and queer objects I the dust coating the floor, painting strange things upon their new canvas
The rope that wrapped about the dead man’s waist held firm, keeping the perversion of a pendulum swinging to and fro, as it was asked to, not too long ago
The cadaver swung back and forth, a meaningless mockery of the grandfather clock that swept away all before it in its endless ocean of time
Tick, tock, tick, tock
Creak, groan, creak, groan
The inanimate object still continues its pointless swinging, even to this day, continues to mock the almighty hands of time, as it will forever more,  just as the master ordered it to be so