Tuesday, June 08, 2004


I am running out of time.

I feel time slipping away from me.

Gone is the excruciating wait until...

...I'm slipping ever faster towards the end of my rope.

And I cannot get a grip, my crime

But it has a firm grip on me, my debauchee

I'm not quite ready to let go, my nill

My muscles have some strength left, my hope

Before the burn gets to great,

I shall give it another go

While I curse that I did create

Towards the green I shall row.


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