Somedays, The mind gets caught up In history. The heart craves the taste Of bygone. The nerves get desperate To re-feel. Those days, The will power seems to lose It's game. The body stays still and Motionless. Time becomes the enemy That won't pass. So today, Cheek against the pillow, Limbs inactive on bed, Heart cravings at the peak And mind racing into Closed stories. I'd like to believe that This Too Shall Pass.
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