Ailing
I hear the raindrops plop like the sound of a slot unlocked.
I fear the passing dusking as the days of the year leave.
Time is going by so slowly, so surely.
Time is flying by so quickly, so uncertainly.
I feel down as I let out a frown, hoping he cometh home soon.
I lay on the bed as if I am dead, believing His cure shall be a boon.
Time is flowing on, even as my time is almost gone.
Time is going by so fatefully, so mysteriously.
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