I tell myself math is my passion

You must have drifted off to sleep
Buried in your mathematics worksheets heap

You were sure of your guess that that must be it
For last you remembered trigonometry and shit

But the town you woke up in
Its residents with watches drawn on their skin

Has clocktowers that were tall, red and blue
Their heights plotted on axis’ and vertices’ skew

You were pretty sure that only a fool
Would not have recognised that as your school

But every building, town centre or bank
Or markets or clinics or places where people drank

Looked less like buildings and more like watch shops
Every wall was a clock-face a display when time stops

Tick Tock Tick Tock the second hand spins
Seconds turn to minutes turn to hours into the bin

Tick Tock Tick Tock you hear time go
Isn’t it time to wake up to do work though

It would have ended when you realised it was just a dream
But you would have failed your compo according to marking scheme

(The rationale behind that you never understood
I mean what’s wrong with ending with a twist all’s good?)