Same time as ever,
An unfortunate slave to the clock.
I think if you thinking of me,
Thinking of you.
I hold you up high, I admire you.
The gavel comes down hard upon the
Broad camera that is my life.
I’m not shy.
Conniptions are cast every evening,
I can’t help but be dulled by it.
It’s so boring.
Am I a better person because of
My lack of care?
My lack of want.
Am I truly better?
Is my being worn down by time,
Truly benefiting me?
Or am I just becoming dull
And complacent
When will I know
That I
Am
Better?
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