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Sometimes, life slows.
It slows to where the concept
Of watching a clock tick and tock
Is too mundane for the parasites.
They will gnash together their cell of threats,
But they don’t know: Time has stopped.

Time slows for no one.
It slows not for a smile, a dab on the cheek,
And therefore we all have died.

They have died since they have counted,
And I am thankful for my blindness.
But then they hear the pendulum click,
And I am thankful for the no-sound that extends to my ears.
But then they feel it.

They feel the time that takes a pause,
And are drug too slowly to their flowers.
And I am thankful that I cannot feel
For once. For I shall infinity.





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