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Time

Time

As it slowly passes by, no one will remember my name,
As it disappears and ends, things will never be the same.
Very small in supply so it will always run out.
Hurting more than words that come from one's mouth.
And because this precious gift is finite in this world,
It starts to become confusing as it begins to whirl.
They put a value on time, but is it really worth it?
"They say that time is money,
But have we ever bought it?"

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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Date: 4/24/2017 9:55:00 AM
Very thought provoking and true. Great poem, Daniel.
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Daniel Koria
Date: 7/4/2017 5:08:00 AM
Wow thanks, really appreciate it.