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These
men,
Fallen beasts,
Arrogant and,
Half-hearted,
Biting their
tongues,
Stuffed in straw,
And with a Rolex,
At they’re feet,
Tick,
Tock.
Carry your sorrows,
On a china plate,
And eat them
For dinner,
On Sunday.
Be back in a
minute,
But never return,
Like an ongoing
wind,
On the edge
of time
Traveling,
Forever,
Right on the
horizon.
Shadow of time,
Spread like
a tree,
In a bare winter
breeze,
Swaying,
And changing,
And never the
same.
Uncle cheever,
Ate his hat,
Milked his cow,
And forgot,
The rain,
Was on the wind,
Forgot about
time,
The days went
by,
And he slept.
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