An Incomprehensible Poem I Made

Three Hours to Live

Moment grows life from childhood
In an hour's time voided of retraction
Smiles on faces must not allude
To the innocent's sullen disposition

Exodus or apocalypse, the second varies
From the first hour's timeline
'Tis the hour to see lives be the ancillaries
Framed by childhood's acting serpertine

Third hour's of the essence
Hour that converges love and hate
It's the stage of adult's scents
Sniffing world with noses that berate

Fourth hour no longer comes to exist
For its beginning is the beginning of end
Six feet below the ground, lives cease
'Tis the living seeing what you earned

How much have you accomplished
In your wake and consciousness
Would you see the remaining be pleased
Or mourn for your passing, no less

To me make it makes sense, of course, but I am guessing it won't make much sense to others because of word choices, but oh well, it was meant mainly for me. Besides, I never really spent much time on it coz I just wanted to write I was thinking.