nor the head
nor the cadence
nor brings back the dead
it shelters not my soul
nor my past
nor my future
nor keeps first from last
i seek it
on my hand
the walls on my brain
the sand in the bottle
and the light of the day
"you will never get her back,"
time tells me
and my heart stops
and my soul bleeds
all so fast, and I,
I move from first to last
adt
short hills, nj
Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi
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