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Time.

     The ticking and the tocking never stopping. Some right now in their fields cropping and others maybe shopping. The rhythm never stopping and the cops out copping. The kids amid the forest and the sea making believe. For him and her. He and she. Me and I never stopping. The rhyme is cryptic, the rhythm hypnotic, and chaotic. Bics lighting, ships fighting, and everybody trying to uncode what they can't see. No one can understand the twist or turns that burns. For none can live on, carry on, and marry all. For I shall resist the grit of the ground as I fall and pound the ground. There is but something round that will never end and away my hopes I will send.





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