Ballad of Atropos

Within a wintry windswept world of misery and deep despair,
Upon the upper rampart of the ghastly castle looming there,
Deep in smoky, silent sadness that pervades throughout the land,
Through fragile glass which tells the hour flows the cruel and ruthless sand.
Unimpeded by the woe and pain its ceaseless flowing brings,
Flaming arcs of death its scythe cuts, with the stench of rotting things.
Vainly mortal men persist to stand in its eternal path;
None which can be built by man can long escape its fearsome wrath.
All who yet have fallen victim to the gaping maw of past,
Knew, as you will, at the finish, time had conquered them at last.

-Adam Gashlin
(sorta kinda inspired by "The Raven")