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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1147069
time is going by really quickly
We can't get the past back,
The future's all we have.
We'd better make it last,
Before the memory's scab.

A second goes by.
And it's gone, a memory.
Lost, and alone,
Away, where no one can see.

We can't go back to when we once were.
And we can't go towards who we'll soon see.
So we sit still, in a scar of time.
Waiting for a time, when no time will there be.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1147069-Without-the-Time