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The days go by
faster and faster
till time, I can no longer hold
nor slow down or alter
and the nervous butterflies
capture the inside
ever sickly
till there is no more left to twist
the eyes thus jolt from date to date
and watch the calender weeks slip
and ever closer the day comes
one that only slightly excites
for there are nerves fried
for reason unknown
and tired, continue to stare
trying to glimpse time
aiming the hook and bait
hoping it shall bite
and slow down
ever delay the temporary goodbye.
Somewhere inside,
there is no wish to fly.