One minute your their, next your not
I know it does not say a lot.
Every time there is something to proclaim
In the end it all seems the same.
The muddle, the confusion
totally screwing up the brain.
Thoughts left hanging
It all seems the same.
Words trickle out
in a rivulet or two.
For someone so verbose
they seems so few.
And slowly and swiftly
the time passes by.
A second too long
A week in the blink of an eye.
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