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2012-02-09 | |
My time is frozen in you,
My tongue is twisted,
Canāt say the words, theyāre clogged insideā¦
I miss you and I will always love youā¦
My muse is gone, am not so much amused,
My timing was wrong and ... got bruised.
āIn time, your time will be no moreā, you say,
Youāve left a lot of sand behind, to mark your wayā¦
But whatās Time Itself, where does it go?
A multitude of grains, in hourglass caught,
A way to build a trail, in hearts, sometime agoā¦
A dune of splinters of the reality thought.
A dream behind the curtains,
Iām here, and I am notā¦
A āpick-a-booā show, that hasnāt started yet,
A story with no endingsā¦
ā¦And therefore, no regrets.
We twist and turn the tale,
For something we convene,
And leave the deeds as baitsā¦serene,
For Time, the thief, the grains, to stealā¦
Afraid was I of short comings ahead of us, to be,
And left the Time entrapping,
Youāve said it: āLet It Beāā¦
Oh, Mute, and Deaf, and Blind Iām being,
Imagination is whatās left to beā¦
A nightmare with no finishings and no regrets, no sorrows,
And wake-up in the morning, how many more Tomorrows?
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