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The Junk Shop

I was lost among the old junk,
in the farthest of corners, when
I heard a clock ticking away.

It had a rhythm of its own,
though the ticks were separate
it appeared to echo instead,

and when I watched the clock face,
the second hand would twitch a bit
before jumping to the next notch.

'Must be a pice of junk,' I thought,
then I looked down and checked my watch,
and it read the sam...

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