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Literature Text
Each day in passing
Is the ticking of a clock,
A cycle never-ending.
And each of us,
We're locked up, locked in
The slow formation of rust
On unforgiving gears.
The movement of hands
Spin, skate, circles onto ice
And through our hearts -
Our own ticking clocks.
Is the ticking of a clock,
A cycle never-ending.
And each of us,
We're locked up, locked in
The slow formation of rust
On unforgiving gears.
The movement of hands
Spin, skate, circles onto ice
And through our hearts -
Our own ticking clocks.
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I cut out a lot of the original poem... I guess this poem is just kind of about how tedious life can seem, or how life always has its slow moments...and how these moments are often the tragic ones.
"You put me on my knees and cut my hope."
-The Light that Shines Twice as Bright, LostProphets
^they're punk, or metal, I think.
"You put me on my knees and cut my hope."
-The Light that Shines Twice as Bright, LostProphets
^they're punk, or metal, I think.
© 2012 - 2024 nyx-aegle
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