The Clock Child

Many years ago my brother wrote a chilling short poem about a race of children with their faces replaced with clockwork and a few days ago I found the poem on my computer and decided to make some sort of creepy picture using that idea. The text reads:

Sightless eyes,
creation was the sentence of death.
Silent voice,
tortured existence ended with time.
No mouth to scream,
no eyes to cry,
no thought of life.
Leashed to the master,
abides in the corner.

A face for a face.

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