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￭ (in the doorway)
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2010-08-20 | |
Once, upon my story, there was me,
One, who thinks his life isn’t as you see.
This part will tell what time can do
To me, my world… to all I knew.
Time is something that we made,
That we blame when moments fade,
But, for me, means something strange,
I hate time… for me, it’s change.
When we’re young, we think so straight,
We cherish love and don’t know hate,
But, when time steps in to play,
People change in every way.
I every way… but all alike:
Lying selfish with urge to strike,
To hurt deep, they’re all the same,
In my heart, it’s time I blame.
“Change in good exists as well”,
Other people like to tell,
But they’re blind, don’t see what moves,
And what I know just disapproves.
Time has changed my world a lot,
I don’t know what’s true or not,
I’m not sure what wounds to tend,
I don’t remember what’s a friend.
Still, instead of giving up,
I have chosen not to stop,
I don’t want to live in shame…
“Difference” over “all the same”.
Time is something that I hate,
It makes us want to plan our fate.
I won’t change, no need to worry,
Ends this chapter of my story.
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