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Forward
My to-do list grows and grows
I try to swallow it, but cannot chew
Forced in and choking, again and again
Under the threat of the setting sun
Until what remains is a puddle of tears
And a list
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My plants sit on the sill
The sun gleams as I fill my can
Trodding gently to nurture
One by one
As the darkness of space looms forgotten
Copyright ©
Cool Kid
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