The tattooed clock

An angel danced on my mother's womb as it rained days, then nights, my finite allocation. The angel whispered a prophecy about a tattooed clock appearing on my back, when it started ticking I would have to dance until it started to rain with angels. The clock appeared but did not tick, I felt faint movements on my stomach, as I slept an angels hands passed through to wind the clock. I woke, could not see as I danced with a messenger to fulfill a prophecy. I felt a kick inside, the new earth's inception, seraphs arrived with tattooed wrists.