Send Not To Know For Whom The Bell Tolls

SEND NOT TO KNOW FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS

“It’s time, it’s time,” the rusty bells give forth their doleful shout.
The clock that used to rule my life is almost ringing out.
For now the clock is failing fast and tarnished by the years
Its rusty chime no longer fuels my conscience and my fears.

“It’s time, it’s time,” there is no peace; my soul I cannot mend
as all my loves and all my friends desert me at the end.
I wait in vain for something, for someone that can heal
the loss, the pain, the grief that time has given me to feel.

“It’s time, it’s time,” my failing heart and stubborn mind refuse
to look for silver linings that most shallow men confuse
with better future prospects, defying all I know.
There can be nothing left for me before I need to go.

“It’s time, it’s time,” the clock winds down, the end approaches fast
An ending everyone must face comes to us all at last
But as I go, I leave behind the bitter dregs of life
Of time that had no meaning, but was fuelled by endless strife.

“It’s time, it’s time” and now the clock rings forth its final dirge
As now I go through gates of mist, my sin-stained soul to purge
I leave this world with echoes of that one final chime
The rusty bells give one last peal, for now, I know, “It’s time.”

For form, I would call this an Elegy, perhaps a Lament with elements of a anaphora as in a Refrain poem (“It’s time, it’s time”)

I think it's probably written in iambic heptameter