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Feb 2010
Our time on this earth,
but a blink from our birth,
as the clock ticks away from conception.

The present is burned,
and the past not returned,
as our dreams are all lost to reflection.

The progression of days,
never falters nor stays,
as we march toward truth from deception.

At the end of our time,
as our bodies decline,
we accept our eternal damnation.
Nekatu Poetry © Arik Fletcher
Arik Fletcher
Written by
Arik Fletcher
502
 
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