What is it that always deals me the past?
I look back, thinking it’s a choice I make.
And yet in moments like these, aghast,
I feel the choice is a trap, a snake.
Light comes, though is perpetually late
in telling me the truth that I have sought.
What all it brings me in a laden plate
is the mirth of Time, a murky plot.
What use is knowing what’s forever lost!
The night sky - a story, a lie, the past.
I look; am I merely not the frost
that settles for an ever - melting part?
The leash of time has had me but numbed -
maybe my death is past, maybe I’ve succumbed.
I look back, thinking it’s a choice I make.
And yet in moments like these, aghast,
I feel the choice is a trap, a snake.
Light comes, though is perpetually late
in telling me the truth that I have sought.
What all it brings me in a laden plate
is the mirth of Time, a murky plot.
What use is knowing what’s forever lost!
The night sky - a story, a lie, the past.
I look; am I merely not the frost
that settles for an ever - melting part?
The leash of time has had me but numbed -
maybe my death is past, maybe I’ve succumbed.
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