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#runningoutoftime
My mother wakes me in the morning with a smile, I wake up refreshed, I walk down the carpeted stairs, where my father cooks breakfast, he tells me good morning, And everything is bathed in a golden light. I sit down at the table, and my brother pours me orange juice, my little sister babbles, and the lamp starts to look weird. My dream is stolen by reality, I wake up in my room, my alarm rings at 5am, I sit up, exhausted, to turn it off before my mother gets upset. At school I see my only friend, but I also see that **** white rabbit, standing behind her, pointing at his clock, that's running out of time.
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Apr 10
Apr 10, 2026 at 10:32 AM UTC
The Lamp in My Dreams, and The Rabbit in My Life
Drip drop drip drop. Tears keep falling and never stop. Tick tock tick tock. Tears fall away with every click of the clock. Like clockwork flip the pillow to the dry side. Time will tell. Its a temporary lie. Alone in the dark. No one sees when I cry. Wouldn't matter if they did cause no one cares if I die. Drip drop. Dawn is nearing. Tick tock. Hope I once again see the light. Forever and ever I've known nothing but night. Eyes swollen from tears that distort my sight. Will I ever be free? Will things ever be right? Tick tock. Time will tell. Another pillowcase soaked as I'm pondering hell. Drip drop. How long must I cry? How long must I suffer before I inevitably die? Can't stop the pain no matter how hard I try. Drip drop Drip drop Can't stop the tears Tick tock tick tock Can't stop the clock.
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Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 8:04 AM UTC
Times of Sorrow
When I asked you what I should do. you told me... "Yeah, I guess it would make sense to end it now." I could feel a crippling cold in my lungs mid summer my heart is no stranger to a strangers lack of care. It's just a summer ****** At least when left alone, let alone the thought of being lonely, I never consider taking my own life before its meant to be taken from me. At least when I talk to you, you remind me like your reliquary for lost tears, you tear through me unraveling my armor to all my inner most fears. Giving myself a gift of agony inside of antagonizing images of my self. Ambition and bravery give way to craven humility. disguising howls towards the moon as laughter laughed to soon. I dug my grave today just to give prayer to the future, I piece myself back together with my words like a surgeon who's done this a thousand times. He who is practiced in the way of emotion suture His hands never getting steadier operating on the child inside him with his rhymes. It never gets any easier it only gets worse. After all, how can you do your job, when you run out of thread and there's a thundering in your head. When you've got twenty-five to thirty for life to become death. You kind of want to be in control of your last breath
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Apr 2, 2020
Apr 2, 2020 at 4:11 PM UTC
25 to 30 for death
The devil walked into a store Eying the clearance rack.   He made eye contact with the cashier Walking towards the half priced jackets Flannels & boots. At that moment he saw something that became his whole world. His fingers wild with excitement passing through all the colors The hangers clanging against metal feverishly to find that they didn't have his size. He thumbed back through the sizes as though something would have changed Checking then double checking. He asked the cashier if they had anymore in the back, much to his dismay to receive the same answer. He saw a cardigan in his size but hated the way it looked. Flapping the hood up and down. He circled the store Looking up & down the isles. Until he noticed the buttons. Those big wooden buttons Memories of a different time & place How fast time slips away. All that's left; Shoes to match
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Jan 3, 2020
Jan 3, 2020 at 11:10 PM UTC
The Devil Brought A Cardigan
When walking through a gravesite, you forget that several feet under lies the body of a person you may or may not know. I have a surname and plot number... This could have been my family. Maybe it is. Maybe it was. I don't feel worthy enough to sit in the grass before the tombstones. To place my hands on the stones... they're so cold. I've read the inscriptions. Never forgotten by wife and son. Faithful unto death, may he rest in peace. A soldier of the great war. Known unto God Known unto God Known unto God. I have a surname and a plot number written in roman numerals, somebody tell me where I can find the plot under the number 30. I ran through the gravesite only to find 29. And I ran out of time. So tell me where I can find him. After all... an unknown family wrapped in a common surname is all I really know.
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Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 8:49 PM UTC
30 In Roman Numerals
So you wear a watch right? Me too. Time is a resource that we forget we have. We always wish we had more of it. So we keep track of it all the time. With our phones and alarms and our watches. We keep time close to us to that we don’t lose it. We always try to manage time to make the most of our lives. And yet sooner or later, we run out of time and our watches don’t seem to matter anymore. Some of us manage our time too much, and we forget to live. And some of us waste time, and some of us want to forget time. But whether we acknowledge time or not, it’s always there. And you know that right? Your watch will prove that much. So my advice to you, is to remember that time exists and to take advantage of what you’ve got right now. Whether it be an hour, or 5 minutes, just take some time to live by you, and not by time. Don’t wait, because time won’t wait for you. Thanks for finding my letter. ~Letter Writer
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Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 5:18 AM UTC
11. To The Watch Wearer