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Time Stuff
The Past
Is an anchor
Raking through the sludge of time
Compounding the
Inertia
Of weighted days.
The Present
Is a constantly replaced
Nanosecond,
Fleeting
And of no consequence.
The Future,
With the peril of happiness,
Taunts fear and is shredded
On the knife edge of "now"
Exposing the fluff that it is.
I float, clutching memories,
Pretending
My life has happened.
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