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aaron Nov 2018
There is no elephant in this room for everyone to see
It usually stays in my head just for me
It feels heavy as a reminder that it is there
Sometimes it hides under my bed
It stays waiting for me at night
Sometimes I think that it has left and that I'm free
But it crawls out quietly and stomps on me
It crushes my ribs and stops me from breathing
The memories come back
And I'm stuck there again
His hands all over me
Not being let go, not being able to leave
And then I'm back in my room
The elephant has left for now
My makeup is a mess and I'm bleeding
But it's normal by now
And this once, I wish elephants were extinct.
If you have an elephant too, I'm sorry.
King Panda Sep 2015
parallel range of
solitary confinement
omnipotent panic linking
developed underwater
predictable anger
theories of the
jammed in a mason jar
left to ferment
for years near extinct
release of the rotten
the aged and
this involuntary drama
where you call
only to say
see you later
Terry O'Leary Apr 2014
In times gone by, now recondite,
Neanderthal, *****, upright,
spoke softly, tones so lily-white,
and tried to put the world aright.

He taught us how the flame ignites
that wearing furs will warm the nights,
just why the rolling wheel excites,
and how the beveled flint stone bites.

Before the days of dynamite
he fought his foes with spit and spite,
and swung big sticks with all his might,
and rendered death with stones in flight.

Engaged in never-ending fight
(arenas were a global sight)
he forced his forces to unite
to sate his oily appetite.

To quell rude thoughts that may incite
he ruled the realm with fly-by-nights
and culled the winds of words in flight,
and darkened minds to anthracite.

With fairy tales of evil sprites
and how the fist of freedom smites,
he washed the world with flames alight
to vanquish hoards of parasites.

Each dawn the damage brought delight,
the foe was bent, a bit contrite…
yet battled on with no respite
until the dusk and evening light.

Encamped beside the firelight
Neanderthal, that shiny Knight,
awaited morn while sitting tight
assured the end would be alright.

Yes, conquest seemed his sacred right…
Forevermore?… well, no, not quite…
Neanderthal's extinct tonight
and lies beside the Trilobite…

The Oreo is round, not bright:
while rolling near the candlelight
at first the searing seemed so slight,
the molten cream an oversight…
This screed has nothing to do with the noble Neanderthal (whose brain size exceeded our own).
it has nothing to do with' times gone by' (though who knows what future beings may think)
it has nothing to do with anything…
and even less to do with something…  
unless of course, you think it does…
Stephen E Yocum Jul 2017
I rolled out of bed
to start my day,
but the power was off
my all electric home,
as still as a grave.
No coffee, or toast.
The refrigerator not cold,
the freezer started dripping
the contents soon to spoil.

No computer, no cell phone service!
I began sweating profusely,
no air conditioning to cool me.
Not even a TV Emergency Broadcast Alert,
to release this uneasy feeling of topsy-turvy .

I drove into town seeking a pay phone,
with not a single one to be found,
gone the way of the dinosaurs,
extinct now too I assumed.

My old truck had no computer chips,
most cars did and were dead in their tracks.
I needed gas but the gas station pumps
electric computer driven, all DOA to boot.

The Nations electric grid had crashed,
blacked out, stone cold dead everywhere.
All heavenly satellites blacked out, expired.
Everything computer related (and
that is about everything), had ceased
to function as had the electronic reliant
world we had created.  

The street throngs of dazed people walked
around like zombies, clutching blacked out
dead computer devices, knowing not what to do.
Not even talking, forgotten I guess how to do that too.
As dependently defectively programmed as the useless
devices in their hands.

In a panic I did awake finding that
this scary dream world was indeed all fake,
a nightmare of fearful unconscious thinking.
My electric clock was still churning,
It's music alarm blaring,
birds outside still singing,
my cell phone started ringing.
Welcoming me back to the 21 century.
Imagine if you can some man made device or solar flare
knocking out all the satellites in space and computers on
earth, then this nightmare is not so far-fetched.
I actually did have this unsettling dream. The possibility
of this reality does indeed exist.
Kenya83 Oct 2017
Craving more than what we've got
A desire burns and it burns a lot

I'm not speaking monetary
I know the answer is in me
How can I affect humanity

Save the children from the horror of war
Stop the bullets that take animals to the floor
Feed the homeless and the poor
End our planets suffering core

I'm a dreamer,
But they are dreams of love
If only peace would fly
Like the dove
If only our priority was kindness
And life was priceless

If only we took what we need
Instead of being governed by greed
Take, take, take, and when it comes to giving back
Generosity seriously lacks

It's not my problem
We have nothing in common
It doesn't affect me
So just let it be

It's not my family,
Nor my community
It's not my country,
it doesn't bother me
It's not my ocean
So continue to fill it full of poisonous potion

They're not my animals,
Who cares if they go extinct
I'll breath in toxic air
So long as it doesn't stink

Be complacent
And you're complicit to all these things
Take responsibility
For the outcome that it WILL bring
James Floss Sep 2018
I am in fact a dinosaur
****** into the late 50s

Child of the 60s
Emancipated: late 70s

Came of age through the 80s
Became a man in the 90s

Time travelled in 2000 but
The naughts were frought

Better when in the 2010s
Seeing liberation by the 20s

Extant not yet extinct
This dinosaur still roars.
Butch Decatoria Dec 2018
In the land of the wasteful

The flesh is bound to despairing

Unmovable feasts

All dreams dreamt away

In the shallows of sleep

As transient as blood

Orange shades of clarity

In the mind blindly

seeking sun

sincerity and kindnesses

Not those in the land

Of the wasted…

Pain is as hollow and as full as

The hearts of mannequins

When already the broken who pose

Now lets go, passed long ago

Since childhood's end

Not having known

To recognize

Or find oneself

In the beauty of a world

We played pretend.

In the land of waiting

For our sadnesses to end

Waking up alone

After all

In the land of ungrateful men.

(The kind have gone extinct

once again.

The End.)
Time travel is forbidden. So speaks the mind.
Anton Apr 17
за возвышенностью города заводов
заводим мотор и ты жмешь на педали
под кофейным куполом громоотводов
разносим остывающий песок на просёлочные дали

ритмичный косинус в твоем дыханье
заводит меня, с утренним потом на губах
прореженные коймы в спутниковом поле
владенья кукурузы и голубого льна

чуть сбавив скорость на окаймленном тракте
мы получили стаю хмурых тучных облаков
взрыхлим здесь землю майскую и высадим гранаты
в открытый свежий грунт, во вновь глухой капот

и будучи инкогнито на густомужном вече
в субботу слободскую мой возглас слился с треком
твоим тату на моей шее я не был искалечен
мне отдали свободу в руки настенной фреской

покинув дикий транспорт в чернеющем тумане
I wished I bore a heavy garnet seed
and planted it out on your knees
as pristine solitariness and extinct renaissance
Do you wanna catch a macro?
Then observe them after that?

But no one does…
And make them all just go extinct…

They used to be just buggies…
But now they’re not…
They are a bigger deal!

Do you wanna catch a macro?
And make a google sheets?

It’ll become a viral tweet,
And end up dying by a week!!!

Then somebody named Michel Clapp liked it all…
He used them to torcher us all!

Now we’re watching the weeks go by,
Really Really Slowly…

Ivan Brooks Sr Jan 2018
The world's on fire, peace is extinct
Look how fragile peaceful minds can get
All hostile minds are having a ball right now.
It's like peace got embellished in chaos.
Where's peace at, what happened to her?
Regional, global local, peace is in short supply.
This is the renaissance of a new world order
Where partial peace coexists with total chaos
People only search Google for mostly facts
Not for solutions to some distorted peace

What is peace then, how can it be?
Just a routine rhetorical question
Coming from the disturbed mind in me
Listen, One-minute partial peace
Bang, another minute total chaos!
Nowadays, Instability everywhere is commonplace
As unscripted hate rhetoric freely echos,
From jihadic podiums to confused minds.
The conspicuous birthplace of premeditated evil.
The mind, soft spots of those totally confused
Call it the hotspots and playground for the devil.
I, the skeptic, to say the very least,
See this quiet storm as a distorted peace!

twitter @ivaclappers
Peace is going extinct ..
Jen Mar 25
They want to form you,
Take away your, mind.
Blind you to what’s deep down,
Living inside.
So caught up in it all,
Before you know it,
It’s gone.
All you wanted was that topaz ring,
All you wanted was that house and everything,
All you wanted was that wedding dress to impress the crowd,
All you wanted was that image of what you thought your life, should be.
When all you needed was love,  
Those moments you couldn’t buy back with any amount of gold.
It’s easy to think these things will bring happiness to your life,
But they never do.
The greatest gifts are free to give, yet they are becoming Extinct.
A lasting embrace, a smile that can’t be erased,
Human touch and raw
Emotion when unselfish and giving, a kiss blown as more than Expression,
Awaking from this daze and wanting more than what is depicted,
True love for ratings, highly overrated.
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
She moves with
The Gracious meeting in denial
He's the baron of beef delicious side
Reproduction picture full slide
The most
   Casual face

Met the eternal masterly
    Artist face
Saying Oh! Grace
The other side of midnight
     Mask Face
She could overjoy anyone's
Heart in the right place
    Deceiving Face

The miracle of love principles
Such skepticism could it be overjoyed realism

But a **** of a time with heavenly bliss
What a shock when he gave me my kiss
His Crooked face to longevity nose
Hiding place A-Rose

Beachy trance-set face

Highlands of Scotland,
anybody would want her
     *Joyful face

He's the baronial
Secluded caves but risky dives
The turn only If?? I
could turn back the time
The events strictly

Her apple cheeks bathing suit
He is picking her fruit
So soothing the fiddle
Tinman whistles the ladies harps

Their medieval moment's help!!!
The swords  bust to his manly chest
Sleeping Inn New castle west
Their best bedrest

The cupboards open overjoyed
invitation decorative cans
Of greens, pinks, purple passion

And flourless chocolate cakes
Powdered lips love his reaction

She was seductively awe-inspiring
The top hills of Ireland grass
vividly raised her legs
The bowl next to her
The Rose blush wines
Bare it Fruit and figs

The baronial tug of war wigs

Melodious birds the
Grand One
The thousand piano words
Overjoyed but
under the {Baronial} weather

So lordly new threads tailored
carpenter pants
Men of the herds
She's the
Caron French boutique

There ****** desires
The creature within
Wildly mating like critiques

Her perfumes so extinct
Overjoyed her heart
So cultured violin strings
Dollhouse Castle to restore
With her unique touches,
he wanted more

The steps tiring like a killed deer
every muscle he could hear

Over elaborating how people are dating
With a  stamped from the very
heart  approval
But hard times such laboring
Sitting in her
overjoyed chair
His face all Scrooged
no gifts of flowers
What are the odds of this pair

Over and over again her rainbow
her sensitivity we need longevity
The  endless walls are caving in
We are not so overjoyed by
this monster garden
She had her first breakdown
Going up the
Jack and Jill Ireland hill
In the longtime what long run
Way too short
It didn't come from above

The vintage oldtimer
radios sitting
together with
family listening
so long ago
So commercialized
The crazy shows
Where do you really want to go,
you just want to shut everything off

He called her the powder puff
Waiting for the nocturnal star
Those scrubs and hot rubs shower
Over my knee-high boots so in
love cahoots

Oh! It's her
The smart student
Owl Hoot whats to boot
Eating her shepherd's pie
so lordly full lips word-me
Ireland Holy Land
of love and beauty

Overly scrupulousness
The time of blessings

But the baronial loved to be
overly entertained
And she would sit there  
Blue-blooded royal dishes
Got flushed away no wishes

Like the hardest love
of multiplication
The ****** overstimulation
Over embellished
But you're still positive
But why did she
want to vanish

Destroyed her
Apple jubilee computer

Spiritual Zen
Or new lover Amen
Ever touched by Ireland maidens
Like the crimson and clover
I do believe in the
Four leaf clover Face

Like the only thing she picked
were the weeds
More beauty of life and deeds
Or tons of sorrow wondering
how she
would feel tomorrow?
We will never know
Overjoyed by so many things have the beauty Ireland is amazingly beautified or everything feels unnecessary gloomy or horrified you rather pick of ripe blueberry or cherry or blackberry living like your in the castle being summoned on by the Scrooged type Baron
Sethnicity Apr 2017
Yet I Am Ready
Watching the waves eat away the castles made of sand
Staring at the way wind is churning at infrastructure       land
like a big bad wolf who found the fear and lean foundation of a brick house
I am ready for her hand

I am all ready
Traversing fields filled with fruitless wonders
burning tundras rolling thunders
A Man attempting to put out its grand made funeral pyre
with nothing but a Jack and Jill bucket filled with reverse osmosis electrolyte infused hydrogen oxygen expired prayers
I am Ready for no man land

I have a radio already
Listening to Nokia raven chirps and bubble bee gyrations.
Evergreens whispers as wild blooms break concrete and asphalt and building plans
giving smiles to homeless man and woman
dreamers flowering in the night lights that were supposed to replace stars

I am ready
for the woods to takeover the hoods
for bear feets to take over the streets
for napkins to become extinct
to write with my god-given red ink
so that my being will dye into stone and dirt
To leave my DNA on my mothers belly and hear her cry
As she covers my mouth closes her eyes tearful from radioactive winds
let her know that I loved her and hugged her every chance I could
I am ready to give up me for we have not given back enough
We have devoured the essence and forgotten how to seed and harvest  
the nothing has become us
which is why Earths flesh is colored rust
like  blood mixed with scratching dust
we have bruised the body
and wonder if we can blame something someone else
but US
Every time the finger points the object of our deflection disappears
Rearrange the letters she was trying to help us HEARt
Rearrange the letters EARth is trying to make us Heart
I'm trying to make us Ear

These MTHFCKRS are among US.
We have bred them with our love ****
still unaware that they a fungus
These MTHRFCKRS have become US
they save a life to **** it from us.
they manufacture fakes to stunt us
These MTHRFCKRS have become US
Ideas devoid of what we need to come up
She must go now and rip it from us
We must shed our blood just to fund us
Cause these MTHRFCKRS have out done US
What have we become?
I have not given up this is not about surrender it is about sacrifice.
What are you willing to sacrifice for a Better way and Better World a Better Future... or are you just another DMN MTHR FCKR
Maaz Dec 2018
Through eyes of dull green it sees,
Through deep brown bark it breathes;
A place of shelter it does render,
For those have become too tender.

Humans are not the only animals it aids,
For many boundless beings flock to its shade.
To the wise Old Oak tree all the animals go,
The place they hide from the wind that blows.

A habitat it does provide,
For a world that remains hidden from our eyes;
A world that will soon cease to exist,
which shall soon dissapate into a mist.

The sound of an axe swinging in the distance,
is the sound of another Old Oak being stripped from existence.
This Old Oak is now the last of its kind,
A species extinct thanks to the demand of the human mind.
A Tree
Akira Chinen May 2016
Have you stopped to listen to the sound of poetry before the hands of women or man
The silent words spoken before our bodies crawled from the muck and the ooze
The songs that fluttered in the wind long before our hands held quill or pen
Poetry has always been and will always be
Before the first star twinkled in the void
Before the sky knew the color blue
Before the ocean had its depth
There in the silence before the hands of time had ticked
Poetry lived and danced and breathed and sang
Before the leaves knew the breeze
Before the pollen and the stem
Before the stinger and the wing
There in the solitude before life and death
Poetry wept and smiled and loved
Before heaven had wars with ****
Before demons had horns and tails
Before angels had cloud and flight
There in the absence of earth and women and man
Poetry beat in the heart of love
And should mankind become eternaly extinct
Murdered by by his own hate and war and greed
Talking god and heaven in his ****** hands with him unto death
And should **** and devils crumble into grief and fade
Poetry will still live and dance and sing and weep and smile  and love
Will birth stars to fill the sky and sing the void sweet lullabies
Will dream stories to tell the sky its blue or grey with storms
Will fill the ocean with tales of lovers drowning in its depths
Poetry will wind the wheels and springs behind the face of time
Will forever kiss the leaf with the breeze
Bring the pollen to the stem
Attach the stinger to the wing
Marry life to death
Give demons flight
And angels horns
Rebuild heavens
Give gods new names
Place new crowns and thrones in ****
Poetry has always been and will always be
And would only flourish
By the death of man
And forever live and beat in the
Heart of love
Francie Lynch Mar 12
We have seen the magic bullet
Cure all disease.
Cows won't go extinct.
Lush, green pastures run to the waters' edges.
Twisted ankles in gopher holes are passe.
Trees are well-placed for shade beneath a relentless sky.
The lands are full, plush and crowded
With work-a-day leather. Wool is everywhere.
The barren creeks are clear of poison.
The grunts and runts of the stead
Blissfully graze, munching towards our tables.
Brown eggs thrive in computerized out buildings.
We are idle. No wars, disease or poverty.
It is either life or death by choice.
We implant, are implanted, removeable,
And sustainable as any Victorian.
In place of the Immaculate Heart,
I hang a picture of my old pet, Sophie,
Walking on a balance beam,
With a strange black V high in the sky.
And with all this, we grow fat.
870 species go extinct each year. That would wipe out everything in 10 000 years.
The fear and uncertainty
Is lying straight ahead
We have to face reality
It's a fact it must be said.

We live in a world of confusion
We see it on the news
And we are often disillusioned
Properganda is what they use.

The mighty they make us shudder
We hear them everyday
No agreement amongst each other
Just fearful words they say.

No wonder there's  addiction
With Drugs and alcohol alike
Predictions from politicians
They never get it right.

Many stop and wonder
About this Nuclear age
It takes one foolish blunder
From a simple act of rage.

Things may not be as obvious
As Destruction from a Nuclear war
Mother nature waits before us
She stands outside our Door.

The shape of this world is changing
But not in the way we may think
Man seems to be endangering
Many creatures could become extinct.

Now all of this seems troublesome
With a planet that no more could be
The end of this world is sure to come
If there's no more  Honey Bees.
Fearful times we are living Nuclear threats
And wars .But it is mother nature that is more likely
To bring this planet to its knees .It is said that without
The Honey Bee or let's say the little garden Bee.
This earth couldn't Exist.The sad news is they are in decline.
At least that's what the experts is time to act and preserve
These little creatures not to mention other creatures.
MicMag Aug 2018
              (  (  growing gray cloud of smoke and ash  ) )
              (  (  expanding mass of poisonous gas  ) )
                         (  ( billowing upwards into the air ) )           a
                            (  (    dark    omen    of    )  ) ­                   s
                                 (  (      despair      )   )                         h
      (    \           //    )  
                                       (   \        //   )                                 g
                                           (  \     //  )                                     e
                                              \\\  /////                                        n
                       ­                         \\\/////                                           t
                                         the                                                     l
                                    peak's        top           ­                         y
exploding     right off
                       glacial snows melting down                       f
                     lava flows heading for the town                     a
                   terror! destruction! fright erupting out                   l
               extinct beast awakens, roaring primal shout                  l
           mountain trembling, earth shaking, people quaking           s
       in fear and wonder, transfixed by summit torn asunder       
fire and fury blend with the sky as we flee and ponder why
we await this rage from the earth but the beauty makes it worth
all the deadly risks we know we face in living at this volcano's base
I recently visited some stunning towns
sitting at the base of active volcanoes.

I was left contemplating this tension
between the beauty and potential carnage.

(This one doesn't seem to look quite right on a phone.
Try it with a rotated screen.)
Eric L Warner Aug 2016
I was painting a portrait the other night,
    when I figured this out; so let me paint you a picture now.
See I’m a writer, and not a very good artist, and I’m overly clumsy
    and far too bulky for my own good.
I have a boxers’ hands to go with a boxers’ grip which is the worst
    way to grab a paint brush unless you want to tip over your paints.
And that’s exactly what I did.
I tipped over that tray thing with the little slots for all the different
   colors of paint to keep them separated.
They went tumbling to the floor and they all mixed together and
   became one, and there was no more white, no more purple, no
       more yellow or red.
There were no lines to color in or outside of cause the paint was
     everywhere and I left it to dry instead of calling it a
                      “mess that needs to be cleaned up.”
I gave it a chance to become its own thing.
And it didn’t.
It just remained sprawling on the floor.
But at LEAST it was given a chance.
And then I turned on the TV to see that cowboy has-been from Gran
     Torino talking about how this is a “***** generation” and how  
             everyone is too Politically Correct.
He said we used to not be afraid of words like '******' and '****'
    and we walked around proudly in our own neighborhoods,
         and I immediately turned that ******* off.
Not to ignore it, but because I couldn’t respond to it.
I’ve been screaming at the TV for 32 years now and have determined
     that either they can’t hear me or they just don’t give a ****.  
It may be both.
But I want to scream.
I want to tell him that people still aren’t afraid to use those Words; they just choose not to.
I want to tell him that they still walk around proudly in their own neighborhoods, and they are even more proud that he doesn't live here.
But all that’ll lead to,
is an Us vs. Them mentality,
which eventually leads to wars.
We can’t have a war.
Not based on this.
And there are people out there who want that, and there are a
   lot of them.
And they are using those words and they are walking those
      neighborhoods, and they are posting on Alt-Right Message Boards
           and talking about how the White Man is going extinct and how
                   they are the minority.
They white-wash phrases like “White Supremacist” to become
   “Racial Purists” and I realized that they just gave us the answer.
We need to spill the paint.
We need to fall in love with people of color.
Any color.
Every color.
We need to spill the paint and mix it together and make new colors.
And it’ll take a long time, but anything worth doing is worth doing
And there will be no more primary colors and secondary colors,
    there will only be people.
But its not enough to mix the colors, we have to clean up the act too.
We have to raise our children of all colors right.
We have to tell them that no color is better than another, and that you  
    can draw a painting with just one color, Because that IS a choice!
You can surround yourself with just one color, and only use just one
       color your entire life, but what kind of a life is that?
You walk down the street and the Roses are grey. And the trees are
     grey. And the grey men at the bar are hitting on grey women
          outside and the bartender is pouring grey goose for everyone
               trying to wash down the fact that something is definitely
We need Red roses and green trees and black men with white women,
      and Asian women with white men, and everyone needs to just start
           mixing and loving, and loving to mix until there is nothing left to
Nothing left to minimize, undermine, or scrutinize.
And if we don’t do this soon,
I fear there may be nothing left to scrutinize at all.
Some thoughts on Current Events
Kush Nov 2018
It's a different kind of lonely,
Don't act like you know.
You've been single for a few weeks,
I've been alone all of my life though.

I'm a romantic with noone to be romantic with,
It's like there's no horses for the chariots.
So my heart's just racing.
Over and over I'm pacing,
Wondering if I'm fighting a battle and it's this world that I'm facing.
Because there's no romantics,
And it feels quite tragic
That  these things I read in books are only dreams and magic.
There's noone that I have seen looking for love and what it means,
Just a few one night stands
And none of that works for me.

I feel alone.
Like love is going extinct.
And I'm one of the last ones,
But that's just what I think.
Wait! Wait!
A pinch of salt in my heart,
Keeps inflaming through the halt.

Wait! Wait!
Some lost in their lives, living with you
Some lost their lives for the pain given by you.

Wait! Wait!
When people meet you,  
To the expectations they live up,
When people breathe you,
To the life they give up.

Wait! Wait!
To some you yield results,
To the most you offered upsets.

With perseverance, I get towards my aim,
As an interference, you send me back with a shame

People exclaim what God say
Why fear when I am here.
But Mr. Wait. You say
Nothing here, when I am near.

Through you, I faced disappointment.
With your end comes my accomplishment

Hello Mr. Wait. I warn you
The more you live with me,
The more I turn rebellious.
The more you give me woe,
The more I become your foe.

Thank you Mr. Wait.
You made me the best Hunter animal with a ferocious killer instinct,
I won't leave this instinct, till you become extinct.

Challenge for a change,
Revenge for an exchange.
I personified wait as a person. In career, what waiting does? This is is what I wrote. Waiting may be sweeter when it is more personal. But when one is rejected chances due to money, poverty or other reasons, a person is pushed to live with that waiting till the end of his life. Waiting has stolen many successes and even life. This is the central theme of the poem. But, beyond it, waiting offers a never defeating strength to attain an insurmountable task. It gives that Hunter and killer instinct to win with that aggressive spirit. That's what I told in the poem.
Ivan Brooks Sr Jul 2018
Like a cloud of dust on a stormy day,
Everything will soon come to pass.
Be it the peng of hunger in one's body,
Or the wealth people die to amass.

Like the beautiful flowers that bloom,
And Like all the hummingbirds that sing,
The sweet melodies I hear from my room,
Everything here will soon become nothing.

Like yesterday and the day before that,
And the stars that shines brightly at night,
Everything here will soon be gone in fact.
Naturally extinct by time without a fight.

Just like the infinite nature of our universe,
Everything here follows a natural procession.
We can't hasten neither can we try to reverse,
The expiry date set up at the time of creation.

Like time,like death and nature itself,
Like the day, like night and everything,
Like dad,like mom or my very self,
We'll all pass away like we were nothing.
Time will someday catch up with us all.
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