Their time is quick,
All our time is quick,
But theirs is quicker
And it makes me grieve,

None can beg me quiet
When this sheer illusion
Grip my spirit,
That their lives by fortune,
Lives on a thin thread;
Yanked off in a heartbeat;
Betrayed by a sickle;
Not a circle.

I am caged,
Sanity choked,
Reality quieted,

These ailing travellers
Abide day and night,
Shortness in their breath,
Brevity between their noses,
Stark truth stacked
Day upon day,
Of every single moment of their stringed lives.

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  • December 22, 2021