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The Time That Slips On My Hands
the time that slips on my hands
splits through my fingers
so fast like a dream that cuts
itself before dawn
when i wake up sweating
and feel the need of a
glass of cold water
slowly the sands of time fall
on my feet
the winds of change blow it
and then
i feel the emptiness of its
departure
the heart is left wondering
what is it that is left undone
the mind has answers but as usual
it fails to consider the
reasoning ability of feelings
you look at fate in the eye
feeling so guilty and wasted
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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