Poem -

No Refills.

No Refills.

Questions of time,
Questions of fate,
So much to do,
No questions of late.

If I could fly,
Why would I?
So much to do, 
Under the sky.

More to see, but I am not free, 
Slave to all I've been told to be.

Facing death's stare, 
Will I be prepared?
So much to do, 
I'm to busy too care.

Questions of time, 
Questions of fate, 
I've never sought, 
what was at stake,
And now I face the truth of my state, 
But time has run out,
It is too late...

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