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Oct 2017
There's no time!
Not enough for my poem.
Not enough to make anything rhymes.
Not enough for my requiem.

There's no time.
The birds hurriedly fly home.
The sky darkens it's chime.
Humans go back home in the norm.

There's never enough time
To do anything.
To even write a poem.
Or to meet you, out of everything.
Vanidy
Written by
Vanidy
73
 
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