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When I was young
I used to not think so much
about time

If anything, it
was exciting

One year I was eight ... Cake,
Candles, Christmas

The next I was nine ... Cake,
Candles, Christmas

Now, time
is the Mammoth
that moves Me
Whether it pains me
or not,
Time is a constant

Though now, I do not wonder
I do

if because of
all man’s
obsession with
I rid myself of items
Once thought cherished
Now, frivolous

In an innate effort
to grow up
   Conformed by society’s
  opprobrium on adolescence
 And the perfidious backlash
would receive
if they hung on too tight to their

Am I drowning in a
sea of
Or am I falling downstream
in a boat
made by man?

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About the author:

Jethro Morris

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I am a songwriter but I lost my voice over a year ago. After I lost my voice, I started reading more and writing without music. I'm not sure if I'll ever get my voice back, so I'm searching for a new one.

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