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Timing
I'm never enough.
Everyone's always
struggling to get
more of me.
What am I?
Eternity,
yet nothing
all at once.
Forever,
yet too short.
Endless,
and yet my
end is near.
While you ponder,
I am slowly wasted.
When you choose,
I am gone.
Forever teasing,
forever tricking.
Forever acting
like I'm something
more than I am.
You throw me around,
and act like I'm
under your management.
But I'm not,
and you know that.
You know you'll
run out of me.
So why do you
waste me,
and then want more of me?
It's foolish.

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