Re-reading books


Time Ticking By

Clock time being adjusted

The monotony of the day’s lagging nature.
Cycles upon endless cycles
of rote motions
and predictable outcomes.
It begins.
It ends.
The ticking clock stares you in the face.
Tricking you.
Time fools us all.
Tomorrow never comes
And yesterday is always gone.
Everyday is another day we will eventually forget.
Days sneak past us.
Disguised by tedium.
Our hours,
Our days,
Our lives,
dissolve in the air.
We become so lost in the pace of everyday.
And we allow the clock to continue it’s ticking
Until it’s time for our ticking to stop.

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In the looking glass-
a portrait stained.
As time passes,
all that remains
is a tattered heart
with a fading face
torn apart
and out of place.

in this reflective lens.
Not showing
what lives within.

Age is defined
by the crevices and cracks
created by time’s cruel hand.
Not by the fractures
embedded by man.

How can glass
tell the tale of time
when the true story
lies in souls and minds?

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