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Mar 22
Tick—tock, the wall blinks back,
hands circling our days like vultures.
Sunrise, sunset—another grain falls.

We count time in echoes, in light-years,
watching comets carve their nameless orbits,
wandering like satellites without a home.

Falling into the tomorrow.
We think we know
Malcolm Gladwin
Copyright March 2025
Malcolm
Written by
Malcolm  40/M
(40/M)   
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