Hourglass Shatters in Poetry

  • Nov. 26, 2016, 4:37 a.m.
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  • Public

We slip as the tick tick of clock runs quicker than our minds. A plan or path, whatever you may have, never seems to follow step by step. Here you sit with what could be regret, but then comes second wind. Like a tornado of reckoning, the urge to reconcile ceases to exist.

To find yourself.
To find a new life.

Good luck to you.. I have no more words left..

I am going to leave you soon…


Last updated February 04, 2017


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