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Jan 2017
All cradled tight in the fingers of the clock
All losing track of direction which we walk
All focused heavily on trying to survive
All losing peace as our unity divides

Some losing sleep over failing in the past
Some creeping close to serenity at lastΒ Β 
Some running fast from the doors that they opened
Some bursting through without care for the quotient
Mark The Vagabond
Written by
Mark The Vagabond
238
   cascandaza
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