why I write


Time is flying by

Day by day without a pause

a week, a month, a year; all wthout a cause.

Time is escaping my grasp

My mind is clouded with days of the past

How can I focus my thoughts and hear myself?

The scratching of pen on paper

The realization of my thoughts come much later.

It muflles the noises of my busy life

And halts the hands of the clock.


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