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Jun 2016
Grains of sand
Suspended in their
Journey beyond
The crevice,
A raindrop
Halted before
Imprinting on
The pavement,
Musty air caged
In my lungs,
Dust in a cloud
Frozen in the room,
Time has not
The decency to
Even crawl
But instead hangs
In perfect entropy,
Dangling the future
In front of me
On the broken hand
Of a clock.
Seconds acquiesce
To each their
Own eternity
And I scream
Into the stillness
But the sound
Never escapes
My own head,
Encased in
A personal, torturous
Written by
Matt Berkes
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