Poem -

Time

I’m walking down this dusty road to nowhere. I picture this would be the epitome of hell. Dirt and pieces of rock hit my skin it almost feels like sand paper eroding at my already withered skin. Time has truly done a number on me. As the clock ticks I can feel one more thing just loose its elasticity giving into gravity.

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author
Morris Holland ...

Deep.. this poem makes you "think" i read it twice and then once again. Really good piece here.

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