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Passing Time
July 3, 2011
I pass time like a freight train,
I cut the air like the wings of a jet.
I focus the most on what matters the least,
and it has its vengeance every night as I’m trying to sleep.
Trying to remember the good times, to forget the rest,
And letting go just seems to increase the load,
and widen the hole in my chest.
I’ll be stuck with this forever, no intentions of change.
No signs of surrender, just signs of passing time.
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