I take people apart like clocks
To see their workings from inside
What gives him his bright, wide smile?
What makes her unable to cry?
What helps her through everything?
What makes him decide to die?
If I learn these inner secrets
The mechanics of emotional life
What makes them tick and keeps them ticking
Can I then repair myself?
Comprehend this intricate system
That makes me me and everyone else
For we are not just separate clocks
But the web of time itself
No one's hung upon the wall
Or displayed upon a shelf
Not a bunch of cloistered cuckoos
But a symphony of birds
And time is just a notion
Equally this string of words