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Jan 2017
Time, what we have none of.
Time which we have set up,
Increments that run by,
Only to show me my demise.
They fly fly, like birds in migration.
To the flock of fools,
Then the time leaves behind a knock,
An echo that flows to the start of our universe.

©BAS
Vexren4000
Written by
Vexren4000  Milwaukee Wisonsin
(Milwaukee Wisonsin)   
332
   Pax and yasaman johari
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