Collapsing upon itself
Drawing near and far
Escaping the capacity of knowledge
Portraying itself, quite bizarre
Time is a precious demeanor
Full of harm and help
But when things seem to get keener
They only feel dumber when dealt
I can't grasp time, it's impossible
It's too advanced for us, we're slow
Trust me, I've tried, it's unstoppable
If only I was psychic, maybe I'd know..
Maybe
I'd
know
How wish I could know
YOU ARE READING
the sound of my emotions
Poetryall of our emotions make a sound, and this is the melody of mine
