Time

A man has been framed for a crime

Time
It goes by without a thought
Crime
A man framed is running, trying not to get caught

The digital clock
Its tick pounding into his head
The men in the court room squawk
"Guilty!" he hears, as tears are shed

The hands of time
They go round and round
He lays on the cold floor, rolling in his grime
He claws at the air for he is now void of all sound

From society, he is hid
For something he never did