A Man Out of Time
Do you ever feel like a man out of time?
Like you would be more at home in the days of yore.
Or days yet to pass.
And ask yourself.
Is this really my life?
That feels like a story. Written badly. By somebody else.
And doubt the narrative. Regardless of it's artless form.
Performed on hidden strings. And brings us to listen.
To another rendition. Of the human condition.
As the world turns eternal. And the heart yearns infernally.
As I sit and pine. For simpler times.
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