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Pondering
Have you ever woke up in the morning and thought 'There just isn't enought time left in my life'? If you haven'tthen I take my hat off to you. You must sleep easier than I. Time is something that most of try and hoard, by doing as little aspossable we somehow think that we haven't spent it. But if we look deep, have saved it or wasted it? What do we do with the time we have hoarded? do we hold in our hands and try to find even the most meanial acomplishment therein or do we through it into the dark closet with our wasted dreams and boxes of 'sould haves'.
If we treat Time with such greed, why is it we as humans can't stop doing the things that only hasten the time of our departure. Is it because we are stubbon? Personaly I don't think that is just to blame. I think we as people hate to feel powerless, the way we used to stick our tonge out of our mouth at the teacher when their back was turned. Just to show that he/she was not the total boss of us. eventualy some of us replaeced the tongue for a cigarette some a can of beer ect. ect. ect. Jus so we can stic up our fingers at DEATH when his back is turned.
Time, my friends. Is slipping away constantly, no matter how we may try to fight it. At the end of the day will it be worth hanging on with fists full of loose-change-time rattling around in trouser pockets or your mind. Wishing you could spend on a newspaper, a smile or maybe worst of all on saying the things you should have said.
If we treat Time with such greed, why is it we as humans can't stop doing the things that only hasten the time of our departure. Is it because we are stubbon? Personaly I don't think that is just to blame. I think we as people hate to feel powerless, the way we used to stick our tonge out of our mouth at the teacher when their back was turned. Just to show that he/she was not the total boss of us. eventualy some of us replaeced the tongue for a cigarette some a can of beer ect. ect. ect. Jus so we can stic up our fingers at DEATH when his back is turned.
Time, my friends. Is slipping away constantly, no matter how we may try to fight it. At the end of the day will it be worth hanging on with fists full of loose-change-time rattling around in trouser pockets or your mind. Wishing you could spend on a newspaper, a smile or maybe worst of all on saying the things you should have said.
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Bird of Sorrow
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Yes, I'm *that* Vlad...