Below is the poem entitled Waste Of which was written by poet
Bello. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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Time, So misconstrued and thought to be limitless
Except for when I am with you
There is no reality of time, no true sense of the word
We stumble in it. Clumsy with every passing second.
But at least we are together.
Hesitating, there is no room for it,
Replace it with raw choice, unconscious emotion running wild, flowing instantaneously from our fingers.
Blindly grabbing at each moment.
Forgetting to remember-We do it all so well
Forgetting what time it is but whose is it to tell?
By Nicholas A. Bello