Grandfather Clock

I am the Grandfather Clock.
Six feet tall i stand, made of solid oak.
The master shines my silver,
and fixes my gears.
The master will dust me off and rewind me.

Now leaves the master,
off to great knowledge and achievement.
And here i sit, collecting dust,
silver tarnishing,
and gears failing.
No longer am i polished
to a brilliant sheen.
No longer is my tick strong and faithful

I wish to sleep. I wish to cry.

My oak is rotting.
My face is warped.
My soul is dying.
My heart is dead.