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The day moves on.
A simple structure is time.
But is time so simply created
that we can speak of it as a structure?
Time governs no one when unknown.
An entity so great that people wither before it.
Perhaps we cannot be pleased as it governs the aware.
Time withers itself, for it knows.
It hates and loves, No.
It feels a concience, No.
Only the joy of the cold knife
It is only a matter of time
that brings us together, separates, and kills us.
On Times own accord where he will lie and cheat us all.
He will cut or long souls and our passion in half.
It does not care, it just takes.
It thinks us as being simply simple.
Greater than I, No.
Days will cease,
Nights won't last.
Years go by, schedule terminated
What can we say.
It learned from us, copied us, took us over,
and stole the Last Hour in Time.
- Title: The Last Hour of Time
- Artist: Dreminal
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Description:
A poem that describes the element of time.
Written 10-13-10
Re-Written 12-18-10
Comment if any questions presume after reading this. - Date: 12/18/2010
- Tags: last hour time
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